


Amor Fati

by 0_jtboi_SR2, jt_boiN7 (0_jtboi_SR2)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Terminator (Movies), Terminator - All Media Types
Genre: AKA The Fic I Was Born to Write, Also What If Reese Had Lived?, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst and Tragedy, Bodyguard Romance, Crossover, F/F, Love at First Sight, Movie: Terminator: Dark Fate, Soulmates, Star-crossed, Terminator AU, Time Loop, Time Travel, no fate but what we make
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:29:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22690021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0_jtboi_SR2/pseuds/0_jtboi_SR2, https://archiveofourown.org/users/0_jtboi_SR2/pseuds/jt_boiN7
Summary: Cassandra Pentaghast is an augmented soldier from the future, sent back through time to stop an advanced Terminator from hunting down young Everly Trevelyan, whose fate is critical to the human race.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Cassandra Pentaghast, Inquisitor/Cassandra Pentaghast, Morrigan/Male Tabris (Dragon Age)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a crossover fic starring my beloved Cassandra Pentaghast and her idiot Inquisitor. It will mostly track the plot of Dark Fate with a fair amount of the first Terminator thrown in. 
> 
> I have loved the Terminator movies ever since I was a young kid, and combining Dark Fate with Dragon Age characters that I love was impossible to resist. This, however, remains above all else a Terminator story--which is to say, a love story. At their core, I believe that's what the Terminator movies are about: love, what we owe our families, and what it means to be human. I hope I’ve done justice to some of those themes.
> 
> Lastly, to be clear, this is not a fix-it fic.

**Costa Mesa, CA**

**May 2019**

She was falling. 

She landed on her left side, hard. The air rushed out of her lungs and her head cracked against the pavement. Warning indicators flashed in her eyes. The heads-up-display in the right corner of her vision blinked rapidly, indicating a full system reboot. That had only happened once or twice before, and all she could do was grit her teeth and wait until it passed. In the meantime she would be slow, sluggish. Useless. 

Cold concrete bit into her palms as she pushed herself to a sitting position. It was night, thankfully--at least the techs had gotten that part right. She crawled over to huddle against the side of a building and scanned her surroundings. Readouts flashed in her display as her enhanced senses came back online. She was in an alley. It was rank with the smell of trash and piss, but at least it was dark enough to provide a semblance of cover. Buildings towered over her, brick and concrete. Glass windows, unbroken. Electric streetlight. Movement at the end of the alley, red and white flashes--automobiles. She recognized it all. Definitely prewar. Good. 

She staggered to her feet. The indicators changed from red to yellow and everything began clicking into place. She looked down, opening and closing her fists, watching the muscles in her hands move. Her eyes traced the fine white scars that ran up her forearms. A series of coordinates were etched into her left wrist; on her right, a red-lined barcode. 

Twin beams of light cut through the darkness, illuminating the entire alley. Two uniformed police officers emerged from the vehicle, weapons drawn. For a moment she thought about bolting, but knew she couldn’t outrun them. Yet. 

She held up her hands and stepped away from the wall, still on shaky legs. The officers gasped in unison, so loud it was almost comical. Even before the augmentation she was well aware of her physical presence--just over six feet tall, well-muscled, a jagged scar down the left side of her face. 

And, of course, she was stark naked. 

She grumbled under her breath. When the tech had told her she would have to go through with no clothes and no weapons, she almost punched him in the nose. But she didn’t change her mind. Nothing could have. 

“Jesus.” The taller officer, a blond man with a severe haircut, holstered his weapon and turned to his partner. “Call it in.” 

His partner turned back towards the car, climbing in and reaching for the radio. The blond officer took a step towards her. 

All systems flashed green. 

In a hundredth of a second she was on him. She grabbed the back of his head and slammed it into the hood of the car. Then she tore off the passenger side door with one hand, completely wrenching it free from the hinge. All the second officer could do was stare, mouth open, still glued to his seat. The radio fell from his hand. She yanked him out of the car and threw him against the wall. A sharp crack echoed through the alley, and he slumped down onto the damp concrete. 

She shut the car off and scanned the interior. Sitting in its mount, leaning against the dash, was a factory-fresh tactical shotgun--a Benelli M4. Beautiful. She had seen and carried several of these weapons, but by the time they got to her they were nothing more than battered museum pieces. She almost started drooling. 

Grabbing the shotgun, she darted around to the back of the car. With a heave she yanked the trunk open, breaking the latch, and found a duffel containing an assortment of casual clothes. She quickly scanned each one, her display telling her which articles would fit. She pulled on dark jeans, a white tank, and black t-shirt. The ambient temperature was warm enough that she would not require additional layers. The blond officer’s boots were a perfect fit. 

She stuffed the shotgun into the duffel, along with both officers’ extra ammunition and a first aid kit. They both carried Sig Sauer P320 Nitrons; ideally they would have had something with more stopping power than a nine millimeter, but it would do. She tucked one of the pistols into the back of her jeans, her shirt just long enough to keep it concealed. In less than a minute, she had achieved her first major objectives: she was armed and clothed and on her way to intercept. 

She walked towards the street, reflexively glancing upwards every few seconds. There was nothing above her but buildings and empty sky. She knew that would be the case. No hunter-killers. Not in prewar. And yet, she couldn’t stop looking, straining to hear the familiar, horrible high pitched whine. The sound of death on the horizon. 

At the end of the alley she turned right, her guidance system providing directions via an overlay in her visual field. The techs had put her down too far away; she was nearly ten kilometers outside of where she needed to be. She would have to find transportation and more weapons. Fast. This time, when death came, it would be silent. She had to be ready. 

Because death was not looking for her. 

***

Everly jerked awake. Immediately she was hit with a flash of pain right behind her eyes. She groaned and rolled over, burrowing her face into her pillow. She had been dreaming but couldn’t remember what about. All she knew was that she had been falling, spinning through a black void toward a speck of light. The light grew bigger and bigger, until it nearly swallowed her whole. And then she woke up. 

Fuck, her head was pounding. The last time she woke up with a headache this bad was after her brother and his dumbass friends had kept her up all night playing drinking games. Everly had spent the next morning curled up in the bathroom, vowing she would never ever ever  _ ever  _ drink again. And while she technically may have broken that vow seventy-two hours later, she certainly had not stayed up last night shooting tequila. Or anything else, for that matter. She pulled the covers over her head, determined to go back to sleep, but as soon as she closed her eyes she felt that same falling sensation again. Her stomach twisted. 

Someone banged on her bedroom door, the sound reverberating through her entire skull. “Hey, are you up? Don’t you have to work?” Brayden asked, much louder than necessary. 

Everly threw her phone at the door. The sudden movement made her nauseous. “I had  _ finals _ , jackass, I’m off till Saturday.” 

“It  _ is  _ Saturday, jackass.”

Everly fell out of bed with a thud and crawled towards her phone to check the time. Her shift started in fifteen minutes. 

Fuck.

She had to go in. If she didn’t, the opener would be stuck manning the coffee shop with no break until the closing shift came in. To be fair, the identity of the opener was directly correlated to how much Everly cared at that moment. If it was Jose, the assistant manager, he could suffer through it. If she left Allie hanging, though, it would probably be very difficult to wrangle a second date. 

Everly let out a moan, lamenting her entire existence. She rolled onto her stomach and blindly reached for the nearest clothes, ending up with a pair of ripped jeans, white tank, and a bright yellow button down covered in dancing pineapples. She dragged herself to the bathroom, where she somehow managed to brush her teeth and swallow four ibuprofen tablets. Her short hair, as always, was a mess--part sticking straight up into the hair, part falling onto her forehead. Everly raked her fingers through it several times before just giving up, then staggered down their apartment’s narrow hallway.

Brayden was on the couch, watching a college football pregame show and skimming his phone. Their father was seated at the small kitchen table, idly sipping coffee and reading the paper. Sandy arched a brow as Everly emerged, eyes flicking from his disheveled child to the clock on the wall. She brushed off his look, muttering about how everything was fine and she had plenty of time. He did not look convinced. 

Everly grabbed her bag, pulled on her unlaced boots, and slipped out the door with a hasty goodbye. Brayden ignored her. She decided to blame him for her headache. It had to be his fault, somehow. Definitely not the dream. 

Their apartment was located perfectly as far as Everly was concerned--walking distance between both campus and her job at the coffee shop. She knew her dad had wanted something larger to raise two kids in, like the house they had before her mom had gotten sick, but the family’s options had been limited. Especially when nearly all the life insurance money had gone to pay overdue medical bills. And they had still ended up losing damn near everything. 

Guilt twisted in her chest, as it usually did whenever Everly thought of her dad. It was hard being a single parent, raising two kids left utterly distraught by their mother’s death. The least she could have done to repay him for all his sacrifices was study something relevant--like engineering or computer science. Brayden at least was in EMT training. But instead, Sandy and Evelyn Trevelyan’s only daughter was a twenty-two year old English major with no discernible career prospects. She let out a sigh. 

The fresh air helped ease her headache, and by the time she arrived at work Everly felt somewhat normal. Her mood soured again when she saw Jose behind the counter, giving her a pointed look and tapping his naked wrist. She hated when he did that. Motherfucker never even  _ wore  _ a watch. 

Everly dropped off her bag, punched in, and ambled over to the espresso machine. Jose started in on her like he always did, bitching about how late she was, her general appearance, et cetera, et cetera. Everly ignored him. She hit the grinder and started preparing two espresso shots for herself. Jose eventually threw up his hands and went out on his break. He probably just needed a cigarette. Everly rolled her eyes. Christ, why couldn’t’ve Allie been on the schedule today?

She leaned against the counter, sipping her coffee. Surprisingly, the place was dead. It was still the middle of finals, and Everly had expected most of the tables to be filled by over-caffeinated and under-medicated undergrads, frantically cramming for exams. The only person in the shop was a cute blonde in an over-sized hoodie, looking like she was trying to inhale an organic chemistry study guide. 

Everly closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. The headache had finally receded, but she still felt uneasy. She was unable to shake the falling sensation from her dream; almost as if the ground was about to sweep out from underneath her feet. 

When she opened her eyes, Brayden was standing on the other side of the counter. 

“Hey, sis. Forgot your lunch.” He held his arm out in front of him, fully extended, gripping a paper bag. He smiled awkwardly. It didn’t reach his eyes. 

Everly frowned. “I don’t--I eat lunch here. You know that.” 

“Oh, yeah. Right.” Brayden kept smiling. 

Then her brother’s head exploded. 

***

She was so young. Cassandra almost couldn’t believe it. All easy, boyish energy as she ambled down the sidewalk, listening to her headphones and wearing a patently ridiculous shirt. Completely oblivious to her surroundings. The war would whittle her down to nothing but sinew and sharp edges, but right now she looked as carefree as a person could be. It made Cassandra’s chest ache. 

Cassandra eased the beaten-down truck into a parking space, stolen from a construction site on the other side of town. She watched Everly walk down the block and enter a cafe, named after one of the more obvious coffee-based puns. Another pang hit Cassandra’s chest, an acute longing that almost made her lightheaded. It had been decades since she’d had anything that even remotely resembled coffee. 

She exhaled slowly, steadying herself. 

The little cafe was located in a mixed-use neighborhood, houses and duplexes co-mingling with small restaurants and boutiques. People filled the sidewalks, idly walking in and out of shops or eating on sidewalk patios. Joggers darted through the crowd. Families pushed children in strollers. A local bus stopped at the corner, releasing a throng of students armed with backpacks and new cell phones, all turning north towards the college campus two blocks away. 

Finally it became too much, and she had to look away. She had been like those students, once, cheerfully attending class and soccer practice, only worried about midterms and paying her phone bill and the upcoming match on Saturday. She had grown up only minutes away, in nearby Huntington Beach, walking down streets just like these. Except in a matter of years those streets would be littered with the dead. The buildings nothing but blown-out husks. Machines overhead, constantly, inexorably searching the rubble for one reason only: to extinguish human life. 

The Benelli lay across her lap. She ran her hand across the stock, grateful for the weight. Her eyes darted up and down the street, optical sensors running facial recognition scans, processing and discarding data light years faster than any normal human. She didn’t have to wait long. A burly-looking young man with thick, wild hair turned the corner and walked towards the cafe, clutching a paper bag. The ease and fluidity with which he moved initially took her aback, but after a few more seconds of observation she was certain. The machines were good--terrifyingly good--but they weren’t perfect. Yet. 

Cassandra grabbed the shotgun and leapt out of the truck. 

***

Half of her brother’s face blown off. His face was blown off, and he was still standing. Everly couldn’t understand how he was still standing, still holding that bag out for her to take, like he brought her lunch every day.

Everly wasn’t sure if she screamed, or if she just opened her mouth and no sound came out. Somewhere, in the deeply clinical side of her brain, she wondered why she wasn’t covered in blood and tissue. But then she saw that beneath Brayden’s face was black metal, not flesh or bone. And instead of blood, black liquid. Everly stared in sick fascination as the liquid crawled up and over his head like a living being, rippling around the hole in his face and filling it in. Repairing it. 

Then Brayden exploded again. 

A tall woman with short, dark hair was at the door, wielding a shotgun. A round struck Brayden’s shoulder, spinning him around to face the door. The woman moved with astonishing quickness, advancing on him as her hand worked the shotgun’s action so fast it was a blur. Each shot struck home, blasting his chest and face and arms. She didn’t stop until Brayden was sprawled on the floor in the back of the shop, riddled with gaping holes. 

It was the loudest noise Everly had heard in her entire life. She leapt backward and clapped a hand over her mouth. Now she was sure she screamed. The coffee mug shattered at her feet, splattering liquid all over her boots. The something grabbed at her wrist, pulling hard. She looked into fierce hazel eyes. When the woman spoke, the urgency in her voice cut through the ringing in Everly’s ears. 

“Come with me if you want to live.” 

Everly stared. Before she could find a response, the woman cursed and shoved her aside. 

Brayden stood slowly, except he wasn’t Brayden anymore. Any semblance of her brother had vanished--his stockiness, cocky grin, kind eyes--now replaced by an utterly normal-looking young man. Average height and build, short brown hair. Dark eyes. But his appearance was pristine, the holes blasted into his torso completely vanished. His shirt, a simple blue button down, looked brand new. As if nothing had ever happened. His gaze locked on Everly, but there was no emotion behind it. No hatred, no anger, no desire. Just an aura of inevitability. Like he had always been there and always would be. And then he was moving. 

But the woman was moving, too. She vaulted over the counter and with inhuman strength, she lifted the nearest bistro table off the floor, holding it in front of her as if it weighed nothing. Everly watched in shock as the man lunged for her, his arms no longer arms, but rather jagged black knives that extended the length of his forearms. He swung ferociously and the woman countered every blow, moving impossibly fast, shifting her grip to hold the table leg like a baseball bat. Then she pivoted and swung. 

She hit him square across the jaw. The table clanged like it had struck metal. His head snapped back violently and Everly was certain his neck had to be broken. But he remained standing, nothing more than a slight cut down his cheek. Almost as soon as it appeared, the cut was gone. The woman swung again. And again and again, finally sending him crashing through the glass doors. He landed in the street, directly in the path of an oncoming bus. Everly heard the squealing of brakes, followed by a loud, heavy thunk. 

Then Everly was being grabbed again, dragged out into the late morning sun and thrown into the passenger side of a pickup truck. The truck jumped and tore away from the shop. 

The ground disappeared. She was falling. The only possible explanation for what she had just seen was that she was still dreaming. Simple. That explained her harried morning, and the odd feeling plaguing her. She was obviously at home, still in her bed. Her dad had just started the coffee. Brayden had probably just gotten back from the gym. Her alarm would go off any minute now. She would head to work like any other day, giving Jose the finger as soon as she walked in, complimenting Allie on her new hair. Everything was fine. All she had to do was wake up.

She couldn’t breathe. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She surged forward, desperate to find purchase, for something to ground her. Her nails dug into the dashboard. Looking down, she saw the shotgun lying at her feet. How it had ended up in the truck, she had no idea. 

The truck darted in and out of traffic, heading towards the highway. Jaw set, the woman drove with a cool, steely determination even as the speedometer pushed sixty miles per hour on city streets. She was older, possibly into middle age. Fine creases lined the corner of her mouth and the short hair at her temples was flecked with grey. Frightening intensity radiated off her. 

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” The woman’s eyes flicked over to Everly. When she didn’t get an immediate response, she ran her hand over Everly’s arms, legs, torso, all while keeping her eyes on the road. Clinically, like she was searching for something. 

The violation finally jarred Everly out of her shock and terror. She shoved the woman’s hand away and clawed for the door, almost flinging it open despite the deranged speed at which they were traveling. The woman grabbed Everly’s shirt and yanked her back. Everly wrenched her entire body around, trying to break away but it was impossible. The woman’s grip was a vise. 

“Take me home, now!” Her breath was coming in short, quick gasps. The truck was stifling. She still couldn’t get enough air. “I want to go home, please, I just need to go home--Brayden, my dad, I--”

“Your father and brother are dead.” 

***

All things considered, Cassandra probably shouldn’t have started with that. 

She ground her teeth, knuckles white as she grasped the steering wheel with one hand, Everly’s shirt in the other. The panic filling the cab of the truck was palpable, a damning condemnation of Cassandra’s poor handling of the situation. But everything had happened so fast there hadn’t been a proper briefing. The techs had stumbled all over each other, frantically downloading data and interpreting the energy readings, as they tried to pinpoint exactly where--and  _ when _ \--the machine had gone. After she had volunteered they swarmed around her, taking vitals, helping her strip, hastily burning the coordinates into her wrist with a laser etching tool. 

What instructions she had been given were woefully thin. Head to the coordinates if things go sideways. Don’t say too much. She nodded without protest, like a good soldier, never questioning. All while a pair of soft grey eyes, brimming with tears, watched her every move. The same eyes that looked at her now, full of fear and revulsion. 

She should have planned for this part. She had been too preoccupied with the basics: ID, intercept, evac. Go south, as far as they could for as long as they could. In her haste, Cassandra realized she had no idea what the hell to say. Bluntly announcing the death of Everly’s family had not been the best strategy. Neither had getting physical, but there was little choice. It would be better if Everly helped her, if she understood. Cassandra would protect her against her will, if necessary. But it would be better the other way. 

Cassandra let her go. Everly placed her palms flat on the dashboard, taking great gulps of air, almost on the verge of hyperventilating. She was so scared. That was the other thing. Somehow, it hadn’t occurred to Cassandra that she would be scared. 

Cassandra veered around a minivan, speeding into the opposite lane and putting them directly into the path of an oncoming car. The sedan blasted their horn and slammed the brakes just as Cassandra jerked back into her lane, barely avoiding a collision. She tried a softer tone of voice. “Okay, you’re having a panic attack, you need to--”

“No fucking shit, lady!” Everly slammed her fists on the dash. “Who--who the fuck are you? What the  _ fuck is going on?” _

Cassandra grimaced, fumbling for words. Then she remembered the last thing said to her before she stepped onto the platform and was sent through time. 

_ I’ll trust you. I know I will. _

Her eyes flicked from the cars in front of her to the rear view mirror. “I’m here to help. My name is Lieutenant Cassandra Pentaghast, Tech/Com DN38416. I’ve been assigned to protect you. You’ve been targeted for termination.” 

Everly shook her head. “You’ve got the wrong person, I haven’t done anything.” 

“Not yet. But you will. It’s very important that you stay alive.” 

“No, no, no--this isn’t happening, this can’t be happening…” Everly kept shaking her head, and for a moment Cassandra thought she would start hyperventilating again. But then her eyes became fierce and she gave Cassandra a hard glare, even as her lower lip quivered. “I don’t believe you. Take me home. That man, he wasn’t my brother, he couldn’t have just gotten up--” 

“Not a man. A machine.” Cassandra yanked on the wheel and flew up the on-ramp to the highway. So far, they were not being pursued. “An infiltration unit. Hyperdyne Systems 900 series--a Rev-9. It has a carbon-based endoskeleton covered by an outer layer of mimetic polyalloy.” 

Her jaw tensed as she spat out the last few words. Even just a tiny sliver of luck had been too much to ask for. A Rev-7 she could handle, a Five even better. But a Nine was at an entirely different level. 

Everly laughed in her face. “Like, a robot? Are you serious?” 

“Very.” 

“They can’t make anything like that yet!”

“Not for about twenty more years.” 

_ “What?” _

All of Cassandra’s senses were on high alert, scanning for signs of the Nine while keeping the truck steady on the highway. A red indicator flashed in her field of vision. She ignored it. Traffic slowed up ahead and Cassandra eased off the accelerator. She debated driving on the shoulder, but held off for now. They needed to get out of the city as fast as possible, while also avoiding the authorities. Her earlier display had no doubt attracted unwanted attention. And the truck had surely been reported stolen by now. They would need new transportation soon. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Everly’s hand hovering near the door handle again. Dammit, why didn’t she understand? Cassandra growled under her breath, pulled over, and slammed the truck into park. She leaned over and caught Everly’s wrist, pulling her around so they were sitting face to face. 

“Listen to me.” She stared into Everly’s eyes. “The Nine is an advanced prototype. It can copy anything it touches. It can go anywhere, be anyone. Its entire body is a weapon. It is out there, it is coming for you, and it will not stop until you are  _ dead _ .” 

The air shifted. Cassandra braced herself for more questions, more yelling, more denial, but none came. The wild, feral look on Everly’s face evaporated and she slumped against the seat, tears welling in her eyes. Cassandra watched the dawning horror come over her. Just as she had been told, Everly believed her. 

For a moment, Cassandra wished she could take it all back, but tamped the feeling back down. Her own brother Anthony had made it a year to the day after the bombs fell. He had been killed over a can of peaches he was saving for his daughter. Chloe hadn’t lasted much longer after that. There was nothing Cassandra could say. Odds were that none of Everly’s family would have survived anyway. 

“You’re a machine, too?” Everly asked. 

Cassandra bristled. “No. I’m human, just enhanced.”

“So you can stop it?”

The red indicator flashed again, and again Cassandra ignored it. Her lips were dry, her throat parched. She needed water. She reached out and carefully placed her hand on Everly’s shoulder. This time, her touch was gentle. She would not lie. 

“I don’t know,” she said. “But I will try.” 

Suddenly, Cassandra’s ears pricked up. A car horn sounded in the distance, far behind them. Then a crash. Without a second thought, she floored the accelerator and peeled off the shoulder. A quick look in the rear-view mirror confirmed what she already knew. A semi tractor was approaching fast, carving its way through the traffic, plowing into vehicles that did not yield fast enough. Cassandra urged the truck to go faster, whipping around other cars as quickly as she could. The edges of her vision blurred. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Cassandra saw Everly look over her shoulder, then pick up the Benelli, turning it over in her lap with a dazed look. On the passenger side floor was the police duffel Cassandra had stolen, left unzipped, a handful of additional shells laying on top. Hands shaking, Everly began feeding the shells into the magazine tube. She passed the shotgun over, eyes wide. 

“I think I did it right,” she said nervously. 

A surge of pride coursed through Cassandra, and their eyes locked briefly as she took the shotgun. Everly was still shaken, but seemed buoyed by a new sense of resolve. And, thankfully, the revulsion was gone from her eyes. 

Cassandra glanced in the side mirror. The tractor was gaining. Sitting in the driver’s seat was the Nine, staring down at them impassively. 

Anger replaced pride. “Drive!” she barked, through gritted teeth. 

She opened the door and stepped out onto the running board, just as Everly slid into the driver’s seat and stomped on the accelerator. The pavement was a blur underneath Cassandra’s heels. Clutching the Benelli in one hand, she leapt into the bed of the truck, landing in a crouch. In one motion she racked the shotgun, brought it up to her shoulder, and fired. 

Just as she pulled the trigger the truck lurched awkwardly, sending her shot wide. Everly had yanked the wheel hard to avoid a slow-moving sedan. Cassandra’s second shot sailed wide too, as Everly overcorrected and sent them careening back across three lanes of traffic. The tractor followed, anticipating every one of their movements. Soon the machine would be right on top of them.

Cassandra steadied herself. Her vision zoomed in on the tractor’s left front tire, gauging the exact distance to her target, correcting for the speed of both vehicles. Her finger twitched. 

The tire blew with a satisfying boom and the tractor veered wildly out of control. Cassandra put another round directly into the grill. Smoke belched from under the hood. A moment later the entire front end exploded, sending a wall of fire up the windshield. 

Another boom went off beneath her, and the truck shuddered dangerously. Cassandra glanced down in time to see the left rear tire disintegrate. Sparks flew from the rim grinding on concrete. The front tire blew soon after. The truck spun out just as they reached an overpass, whipping across the highway and crashing into the guardrail. Cassandra managed to hold on, leaping from the cab just before impact. She tucked her head and landed on her shoulder, using her momentum to roll forward, and she popped neatly to her feet several yards away. 

The truck struck the guardrail on the passenger side, breaking through the barrier just enough so that the front end was hanging dangerously over the overpass. Everly was slumped over the steering wheel, blood trickling from a cut above her brow. Cassandra ripped the door open and gathered Everly in her arms, pulling her free. Protesting weakly, Everly staggered on her feet and tried to twist away. Cassandra grasped the back of her jeans and yanked her away from the wreckage, looking back over her shoulder. 

Fire raged from the tractor twenty yards away, black smoke billowing high into the air. Traffic was at a standstill, onlookers stepping out of their vehicles to gape at the inferno. Sirens sounded in the distance. Cassandra looked around frantically, assessing their options, Everly still barely able to stand. A young man in sunglasses and a suit was standing half out of his sports car, hanging over the driver's side door as he recorded everything with his phone. Reaching around, she found the Sig Sauer still tucked into the back of her pants. Cassandra leveled the gun at his face. 

“Get out.” 

The man scrambled away from his car, tripping over himself in his haste to comply. Cassandra shoved Everly into the passenger seat and vaulted over the hood. Just as her feet hit the ground, the Nine emerged from the fire and broke into a run. Trembling, she unloaded her pistol into the machine. Black pockmarks appeared in its face and torso as she struck home. They did nothing. The machine was almost smiling. The Sig clicked. Empty. Cassandra threw it away. 

She was on the verge of crashing. Her augmented metabolism, designed for only short, intense bursts, had already been taxed by the fight in the coffee shop. Now it was about to shut down completely. Less than eight hours after she had arrived, and she was about to fail her mission. Maybe she could delay the machine for a few moments, giving Everly a head start. Maybe there actually was a tiny piece of luck she hadn’t used up yet. 

She glanced into the car. Everly appeared lucid again, hands on the wheel, already shaking her head like she knew exactly what Cassandra was about to say. Cassandra tore the driver’s side door off its hinges, hamstringing the car somewhat, but still leaving it driveable enough for an escape. She could buy a little time. 

“Go. Now,” she ordered, and didn’t look back. 

Spinning around on her heel, she brought the door up with seconds to spare. The Nine’s arm sliced downward, nearly cutting it in two. Marshaling the last of her reserves, she smashed the door into the machine’s face. It staggered back half a step. She did it again, pushing him away from the car and Everly. This time it slashed upward, and succeeded in halving the door with one blow. Cassandra threw one half at the machine, barely gripping the other. The Nine batted the crumpled metal away like it was nothing. Her vision blurred, a sea of red in front of her as her entire system redlined. A flash of movement caught the corner of her eye. She hoped it was Everly. 

The machine ripped the rest of the door from her hand and Cassandra fell to one knee. She looked into its dead eyes with a snarl, the only act of defiance she had left. 

A hole appeared in the side of the Nine’s head. Then another in its chest. It staggered backwards, and if Cassandra thought the machine had the capacity for emotion, she would have sworn it was surprised. Through her haze, she was barely able to make sense of what she was seeing. 

A small woman with grey-streaked black hair was walking towards them, an automatic shotgun at her hip. She blasted the Nine mercilessly, each round slamming into him until his back was pressed against the guardrail. The last shot blew him over the top, sending him tumbling into the culvert below. The woman ambled over to the guardrail and peered down. Then, looking almost bored, she yanked the safety pin out of a grenade and dropped it over the side. 

Cassandra blinked, trying to clear her vision. Then everything went dark. 

***

**Los Angeles, CA**

**April 2041**

Cold metal pressed down on her, slowly crushing her chest. Pain wracked her entire body. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. The ground rumbled dangerously, and she knew she needed to try to get up. To run, to make it to the evac point, to make sure the rest of her squad had made it. But her legs were trapped, her arm twisted underneath her. She couldn’t even open her eyes. 

“Hey Top, get over here! We got a live one!” 

An unfamiliar voice cut through the darkness, followed by the sound of boots thundering over to her. The metal was lifted off her and she took a long, desperate gasp of air. Someone dropped to their knees beside her head. 

A new voice by her ear. Warm, dripping with sincere concern. A gentle touch to her face. “Sweet Jesus...Medic! We need a medic over here now!”

“I dunno, Top, I don’t think she’s gonna…” 

The voice laughed. Of all things, a laugh. “Now, Cullen, what kind of attitude is that to have? We’re not any better than those metal bastards if we leave our people behind.” 

The first person--Cullen--grumbled a half-hearted acknowledgement. Another soldier spoke up, standing farther away. “Fuck me, look at this. Did she take out two Fives by herself?”

Someone reached for her right wrist, slowly pushing aside her glove. She heard the beep of a scanner. The warm voice spoke again. Cassandra wanted to wrap herself up in it. “She’s with Abel Company of the 132nd. Their patrol must have run into a new sweep pattern. Dammit, this grid was supposed to be clear.” A thumb lightly grazed the inside of her arm. “Where the  _ hell  _ is Harding? Medic!” 

More boots, and a pair of hands were prodding at her, poking, lifting, checking. She cried out when they pressed into her side. Now the chorus of voices became a cacophony, each barking out orders and talking over each other. An urgent radio transmission in the background. Something about H-Ks incoming. 

Cullen cut through the din. “Holy shit, look at her face.”

She wished Cullen would shut up. Although, with the way she felt a sickening ooze when a dressing was pressed against her cheek, they were probably on to something. 

A new voice joined in, more nervous than the others. “Top, the Lieutenant says have to move or we’ll miss the evac.”

Top answered firmly. “We’re not leaving her.” 

She was lifted onto her side, then rolled onto a stretcher. The rumbling increased and the voices became more frantic, yelling situation reports and relaying coordinates. She couldn’t tell what was approaching--it could just be a couple of HK-1 tanks, or the larger Ogres or Goliaths. The stretcher bounced as they carried her over the mounds of rubble and dead bodies, old skeletons that cracked beneath the soldiers' boots as they ran. She was shoved into the back of a car, heedless of her injuries, and as soon as the door slammed shut there were screams for the driver to go. 

The car accelerated, pushing her head back into a lap. A bracing hand pressed into her chest, keeping her steady; another held the dressing to her cheek. Slowly, she opened her eyes. 

A woman, looking younger than she sounded, with full lips and dirt-smudged cheeks gazed down at her. Her face was bright and smiling, despite the three jagged, parallel scars ran from her temple down the side of jaw. Her grey eyes held a softness that, miraculously, had not been burned away by war. Somehow she seemed familiar. Like they had known each other their whole lives. 

The smile widened. “Welcome back, soldier.” 

  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Los Angeles, CA**

**May 2041**

The bunker had once been the D level of a parking garage underneath a mall in Century City. Now it was partially collapsed and shattered, a blown-out carcass of broken concrete and metal. Within its scorched skeleton lived adults and children, scavengers, the sick and the dying, and countless vermin. The wreckage of humanity, forced underground to hide from the machines. 

Like all the other bunkers and firebases Cassandra had passed through over the years, it felt like she was descending into some unholy catacomb, the people within alive only in name. Emaciated, haunted faces peered through the shadows like ghosts, lit by flickering light from small cookfires. They were dressed in scavenged rags, layers of cloaks and vests made from anything that could reasonably pass for clothing--carpet, canvas, black plastic bags tied around them with frayed cord. They lived in hulks of cars, dumpsters turned on its side, or behind ragged blankets hung on a wire. And there was the dry, repeated sobbing, droning on and on throughout the entire bunker, broken up only by the occasional thin wail that would drift up from the darkness. 

Only the children seemed to have any life, as they chased rats down for the stewpot. Unlike the adults, though, they were silent. Born after the war, they had not seen the world their parents mourned. They knew better then to cry and potentially attract the attention of the machines. 

It was hell. But it was also the home of Bravo and Mike companies of the 3rd Reconnaissance Battalion. 

At least, they called themselves “companies,” but the soldiers’ numbers would be hard-pressed to even adequately man a platoon. There were only about twenty total, of various ages and ranks and specializations. But in spite of their small size and disparate backgrounds, the 3rd Recon had been one of the most consistent groups in the entire resistance. They had carved out two full grid sectors and held off the machines’ attempt to recapture the lost ground--for five whole years. Such a sustained level of success was virtually unheard of. 

Cassandra had never seen a group like them before. All her previous units had been made up of hard, stone-faced warriors, hell-bent on destroying metal. Stoic discipline and nothing else. The 3rd Recon couldn’t have been more different. They slept too much. They ignored basic PT. They lazed about. They drank rank moonshine distilled in a toilet two levels above. They only half-listened to mission briefings. They ignored all conventions of rank and seniority and called each other by their first names. And, God help her, they actually  _ smiled. _

It had been years since she’d seen that. 

After her wounds had healed, the decision to stay was easy. She needed a new company, and they needed a new officer--not that anyone in the 3rd would admit that, of course. And though they might lack order, discipline and training and drills had not stopped her last company from walking into an ambush. She mourned her comrades, but she needed to move on. 3rd Recon was as good a spot as any. 

Cassandra settled deeper into the cushions of the burnt leather couch, slowly stretching her long legs out in front of her, still nursing two cracked ribs. Her Westinghouse M-25 was across her lap. Someone was crying deep within the bunker. She tuned it out. 

In the corner to her right, Cullen and Dorian, both skilled sappers, had struck up a card game. Most of the deck was gone, and what was left consisted of cards that were ripped in half or melted. Neither man seemed to care about such details. Sera, a wily sniper, was busy carving an obscene image into a hunk of concrete that had fallen from the roof. Next to her, the communication specialist Josie made a disapproving face and returned to her own project. She was weaving something out of scrounged strips of plastic.

Down the corridor, Cassandra heard a pound at the bunker entrance, requesting admission. A wave of excitement swept through the bunker, momentarily driving out the despair. Cassandra huddled deeper into the couch, hands shoved in her pockets.

Top was back. 

Cassandra learned two things immediately upon meeting First Sergeant Everly Trevelyan. The first was that nearly everyone called her Top, on account of the fact that she had served with the 3rd Recon the longest and was the highest ranking non-commissioned officer. It was also appropriate considering her abundance of energy and the way she bounced around the bunker like a child’s toy. The second was that she loved to scrounge.

Everly started with the spotters--a shepherd and a black lab. The two dogs were the best fed creatures in the entire bunker. And with good reason; even with all the tech available, there was nothing better than a dog when it came to identifying infiltration units. Cassandra listened as Everly enthusiastically greeted the pups and their handlers, her voice echoing down the corridor. 

She made her way deeper into the bunker, stopping to offer food and supplies to the most destitute. It was scraps, mostly, but enough to bring a fleeting moment of light to the dark. Canned items, small tools, a thin rope to repair a broken bootlace. Each was offered with a warm smile and comforting words. A flash of life would appear briefly in the recipient's eyes, before slipping back into hopelessness. Cassandra had seen this routine occur at least a half-dozen times since she joined the unit. The apparent futility of her efforts never seemed to bother Everly. 

Everly straightened, pausing to congratulate one of the more animated children on a particularly large rat they just captured, and went over to the soldiers. Cassandra couldn’t help but watch, noticing that Everly kept glancing in her direction. As with the civilians, she came bearing supplies and food, but also random gifts for each one, specific to some code or inside joke Cassandra wasn’t privy to. Sera eagerly grabbed what looked like a shiny piece of mirror out of Everly’s hands. Leliana, the intelligence officer, was gifted a scorched, misshapen plush toy. Even the notoriously prickly Captain Lavellan lit up when Everly presented him with a melted glass soda bottle. Everly laughed. 

Something inside Cassandra stirred, the whisper of a feeling she had long thought extinct. Their eyes met. Everly made a face, scrunching her nose, and gestured at the couch. Cassandra cocked her head. Huffing loudly, Everly stomped over to her. 

“That’s my spot.” Everly stood in front of Cassandra, hands on her hips. It looked to Cassandra like she was trying very hard to conceal a grin. 

Cassandra shrugged, feigning ignorance. She knew damn well whose couch it was. It was the only acknowledgment of Everly’s status within the unit, especially since she wasn’t an officer. Cassandra had sat there anyway, for reasons she couldn’t quite articulate. 

Everly sighed and plopped herself down next to Cassandra, scooting close to avoid the burnt out section of the cushion. Their legs touched. The feeling stirred again, stronger this time. 

“Found something for you.” Everly unzipped her jacket and reached into her breast pocket. Gently, almost reverently, she withdrew a trade paperback. The cover was gone, the edges of the paper singed and cracked. The first twenty or so pages had been ripped out. But it was an honest-to-God novel, mostly intact and the first Cassandra had seen in years. Most paper-based products in the city were vaporized by the bombs, or subsequently burned for warmth and fuel. 

Hand trembling, she accepted the book carefully, almost afraid it would disintegrate at her touch. How Everly had seen the romance novel tucked away in her own fatigues, Cassandra had no idea. Once a source of light escapism, it now functioned as a talisman more than anything--pressed in between the pages was the only remaining photo of her brother and niece. She hadn’t opened it in months. 

Cassandra flipped through the volume Everly had found. It was another tawdry romance, and although the first part was missing, the more graphic scenes were still there. She blushed and quickly hid it away. Everly grinned, but said nothing about the genre. Cassandra muttered a thanks. 

Everly’s grin widened and she settled deeper into the couch, seeming unbothered by sharing the space. Cassandra now had a full view of Everly’s profile. She appeared younger than she actually was, even with the scarring on the side of her face. Cassandra could tell the injury had not been caused by any sort of sharp instrument. Rather, it looked as if someone had gouged at Everly’s face with their bare hands. She was lucky she hadn’t lost her eye. 

The third thing Cassandra learned about Everly Trevelyan had not been so readily obvious as the other two--it was that nobody knew a damn thing about her. Recordkeeping at the start of the war had been virtually nonexistent, but Everly’s file was exceptionally thin. Some said she had come from the east of the Rockies, fighting her way over the mountains to join the Los Angeles campaign. Others said she came up through the Baja. The only thing agreed upon was that she had joined the 3rd pretty much out of nowhere, wickedly scarred, fluent in three languages, and with a gift for blowing up machines. Her arrival also happened to coincide with the battalion's unprecedented success. 

They sat in silence for a time, both slouching into the couch, weariness washing over them. Surprisingly, the crying deep within the bunker had stopped. Everly pulled out half of a protein bar and began unwrapping it slowly, careful not to drop a single crumb. She had been nibbling at it for the past two weeks. She took a small bite and offered some to Cassandra, who declined. 

“You sure?” Everly looked at her with genuine concern. “You need the calories.”

“I ate yesterday.” 

Everly took another bite and squirreled the rest away. “You know what I miss more than anything? Coffee. I don’t care about food so much. But I would murder for a cup of real coffee.” 

Cassandra made a non-committal grunt. Somehow, Everly took that as an invitation to continue. 

“I worked at a coffee shop when I was in college. My espresso skills were legendary. I drank so much I vibrated on the way to class.” Everly paused. “What about you?” When Cassandra didn’t answer, she leaned back and laced her fingers behind her head. “It’s like that, huh? You come over, sit on my couch, and won’t even talk to me.” 

Cassandra let out an irritated growl. She had played this game before and had no desire to reminisce over lost comforts. There was hardly any point to it. What was gone stayed gone; the dead stayed dead. The bones of three billion humans were proof enough of that. 

“It’s a waste of time,” Cassandra finally said. Her voice felt rusty from disuse. Usually when she spoke it was to conduct briefings or bark orders over the radio. A conversational tone was almost alien to her. “Talking about the past won’t change anything, or conjure an espresso out of thin air, or bring back the dead. The only thing to do is move forward. Forget everything else.”

Everly twisted around and looked at Cassandra for a long while. When she spoke her voice was impossibly gentle. “We don’t win by becoming machines ourselves, Cassandra. We win by remembering our humanity.”

The feeling within Cassandra sparked like flint against steel and she instinctively tamped it down. She cleared her throat and moved her rifle from her lap, leaning it against the arm of the couch. Then she scrubbed her palms against the top of her thighs. A small flame had ignited anyway. Before she knew it, she was talking more than she had in years. 

“I miss the sun, actually. Too many years of night raids, too many bunkers. The dark...does not sit well with me. I grew up not far from here in Huntington Beach. Well, I mean, I lived there after my parents died and my uncle took my brother and I in. We had a house right on the ocean. Anthony and I were always on the beach or in the water--playing soccer, volleyball, surfing. I--” The last words caught in her throat. She inhaled deeply and continued. “We used to take my niece to that same beach. She loved the water, too, just like us. I miss them both. So I wish--I wish I could see the sun more.” 

A wave of self consciousness seized her, followed by shame. She was far from the only one to have suffered loss. Her story was not special. But Everly was smiling at her, a picture of warmth, earnestness, compassion--the last things she had ever expected to see in this war. 

“That is a much better answer than mine.” Suddenly, Everly’s smile faltered. Cassandra swore she saw a flash of sadness in her eyes, but the moment passed so fast Cassandra wondered if she had imagined it. “I do hope you get to see the sun again,” Everly said softly.

A lump formed in Cassandra’s throat. She could only manage to nod in response. As she sat on the charred couch, breathing the stale underground air, machines stalking the world above her, she gazed into Everly’s eyes and thought maybe she already had. 

***

**Outside Costa Mesa, CA**

**May 2019**

When Cassandra woke, she was staring down the barrel of a gun. 

The woman from the highway stood over her, looking haggard, thick hair spilling from a loose ponytail. A .40 was leveled directly at her head. 

Cassandra was lying on a thin bed. Rough sheets scratched against her hyper-sensitive skin. Her shirt was drenched, like someone had dumped water all over her neck and chest. She ran a diagnostic. All systems were normal. 

Over the woman’s shoulder, Cassandra took in the wall covered in cheap wood paneling, an ancient tv perched crookedly on a dresser. Dingy ceiling--a motel. Next to the bed was a small table, covered in medicine bottles and syringes. There was no sign of Everly. 

A snarl appeared on the woman’s face. “Talk. Fast.” 

In the space of a breath Cassandra shot off the bed, twisted the woman’s arm, and slammed her up against the wall. The .40 was jammed into her cheek. Cassandra allowed herself a small feeling of victory. She was at optimal status once more. 

The woman swore loudly and fought against Cassandra’s grip, managing to wedge her knee up into the wall and kick back. Cassandra hardly budged but released her anyway. She darted back, now pointing the pistol at the other woman. She quickly scanned the weapon. A Heckler & Koch p30. Nice gun. 

“I’ve never seen one quite like you before. You look almost human.” The woman glared at her in obvious disdain. She looked like she wanted to spit in Cassandra’s face. 

“I am human. Just enhanced,” Cassandra snarled back at her.

The woman arched a brow skeptically. “Enhanced. Right.” 

They stared at each other, soldier to soldier--the woman  _ had  _ to be a soldier, Cassandra decided. Even without a uniform or insignia, whatever training she had undergone had been effective and deadly. If it wasn’t for the sheer hostility, Cassandra might have actually felt a rough kinship with her. Might. 

Cassandra glanced around the room, chest tightening uncomfortably. “Where is Everly?”

The woman cocked her head and gave Cassandra a curious look. “Ah, I see. You’re here to protect her. Who is she?”

Before Cassandra could answer, there was a loud bang at the door, followed by Everly demanding to be let in. “Morrigan, open up! What the hell?”

So the woman’s name was Morrigan. 

Without taking her eyes off Morrigan, Cassandra unlocked the door and yanked it open. Everly burst inside, carrying an armful of potato chips, looking utterly offended. “You locked me out, why--” She stopped herself when she saw the pistol, and immediately jumped in front of Cassandra, blocking the shot. “Stop pointing guns at everything. She helped us.” 

Morrigan crossed her arms, almost smug. Cassandra shot her a glare and pointedly shoved the P30 into the back of her waistband, then turned to examine Everly. There was a lump on her forehead from where she had struck the steering wheel and her bright yellow shirt was streaked with sweat and dirt, but she was alive. Relief surged through Cassandra. The mission had not failed, just gone sideways. She’d handled that before. She just needed to gather information, assess the situation, then move on. Her eyes flicked back to Morrigan. 

“You helped? Why?” she demanded. 

“I needed answers, and she was too freaked to be of any use,” Morrigan said, nodding at Everly, who promptly scrunched her nose in a scowl. “ _ When _ are you from?”

“2042. Your turn.” 

Something flickered across Morrigan’s face, and she suddenly appeared very old and very tired. It was a look Cassandra knew well. Cassandra found herself wondering what horrible things the other woman had seen. Morrigan sat down on the bed. A weighty pause filled the room, then she answered. Her voice grew progressively rougher as she spoke, telling a story that was almost familiar. Every word rang true right to Cassandra’s core. 

“My name is Morrigan Velcor. When I was about her age,” she nodded in Everly’s direction, “a terminator was sent back to kill me to stop the birth of my son, Kieran, the leader of the resistance. Ten years later, another machine arrived, targeting Kieran directly. Together we killed it and stopped Judgment Day. We changed the future. Saved three billion lives. No thanks necessary, though; I didn’t do it for the accolades.”

“Who sent what back?” Everly’s eyebrows furrowed. “Judgment Day?” 

“Skynet, an enhanced computer defense network. It became self-aware and started a nuclear war to exterminate mankind. The resistance defeated it, but not before it sent back terminators to try to kill him. To prevent Kieran from ever being born. ” Morrigan looked at Cassandra, as if a thought suddenly occurred to her. “You don’t know about Skynet, do you?” 

Cassandra shook her head. 

“Well. That’s a good thing, I suppose.” 

“Where’s your son now?” Everly asked. 

Morrigan turned away. The corded muscles in her neck tightened. “Skynet had sent several terminators back to kill him. One finally caught up with us. It carried out orders from a future that never happened.” She bit down hard on her lower lip. “Since then, I hunt terminators. And drink. Is that good enough for you?” 

“No.” Cassandra stepped forward. “How did you know we would be on that highway?”

Morrigan stood and backed away, her grief concealed once more. Instead of answering, she pointed at the coordinates on Cassandra’s wrist. “Explain those first.”

Cassandra hesitated. Her instructions had been clear, and if she wasn’t supposed to divulge the details of her mission to Everly, she certainly was not going to give them to this woman. No matter what she had endured. Next to her, though, she felt Everly tense. A burning sensation crawled up her neck, and Cassandra knew Everly’s eyes were boring into her, a thousand unanswered questions begging to be unleashed. She sighed inwardly. Cassandra had been on the receiving end of that look only handful of times and didn’t care to repeat the experience. 

“My commander had them tattooed on me,” she admitted reluctantly. “I’m supposed to go there if anything goes sideways.”

“Your commander? So there is still a resistance? There was still a war, then?” Morrigan asked. 

Cassandra swallowed hard and tried not to look at Everly. “Yes. About two years from now. But it wasn’t this ‘Skynet’ you talked about. It’s called Legion. A cyberwarfare AI. It attacked all of us.” 

Morrigan laughed dryly. “Those assholes never learn.”

The sound of bags crinkling drew Cassandra’s attention. She finally turned towards Everly. The hard look had melted away, and Everly was clutching the chips to her chest, as if they were some sort of lifeline. Her eyes went wide again, like they had when Cassandra first pulled her into the truck mere hours ago. Cassandra’s heart twisted. She braced herself for the question she knew was coming. 

“Why me?” Everly asked softly.

Before Cassandra could deflect, Morrigan jumped in. “Let me guess--she gives birth to the one man who can save humanity.” 

_ “What?”  _ Everly dropped the chips and her voice went up a full octave. “No.  _ No.  _ Absolutely not. I’m not here for that.” 

“And you think I was?” Morrigan laughed again. “Sometimes you don’t have a choice in these things, dear.” 

“You best believe I do,” Everly spat.

Cassandra rubbed her forehead. That wasn’t exactly the truth, but she didn’t have the time nor latitude to explain. “Look--” 

“Whatever, we can talk later.” Morrigan snatched up a loaded duffel by the door. “We need to move. Don’t forget my chips.” 

Cassandra darted over to block the door. “There is no  _ we _ . It’s my mission to protect her,” she said dangerously. Her hand moved to the small of her back. 

Morrigan planted both feet and jerked her chin up at Cassandra, utterly unintimidated. “Should have thought about that before you passed out and that one stole my truck and knocked off a drugstore. Between grand larceny and the mess you left on the interstate, I’m surprised you haven’t been arrested or killed by now. Clearly you don’t know much about this time. Nobody walks through this world without leaving a digital footprint a mile wide. A footprint that I’m sure this machine can access.” 

“Fine,” Cassandra said through gritted teeth. “What’s your plan?”

For the second time, Morrigan pointed to Cassandra’s wrist. “I’m taking you there. I’d say this qualifies as sideways.” She pushed past Cassandra, threw open the door, and walked out. 

Cassandra turned to Everly. A memory floated to the surface, a vague recollection of being pulled across rough concrete, a voice pleading with her to stand. She looked at the three syringes lined up neatly on the table. 

“You robbed a drugstore?” Cassandra asked. 

Everly shrugged and rubbed the back of her neck, avoiding Cassandra’s gaze. “You were delirious, but still coherent enough that I figured out what you needed. Had to guess at the dosage, though.” She paused. “I wasn’t going to leave you.”

_ I know _ , Cassandra wanted to say.  _ I know you would never leave me.  _

Morrigan’s voice echoed from the parking lot. “Are you coming?”

*** 

A text message. That’s how Morrigan knew they were going to be on the highway. 

Apparently, years after her son had been killed, she had received an encrypted text with nothing but a set of coordinates and two simple words: for Kieran. When Morrigan arrived at the location, a terminator appeared. A little while after that, it happened again. And again, and again. Four times she had received messages, and four times she had destroyed machines--all sent back to different points in time to strike at Kieran. From a future that was no longer supposed to exist. 

Cassandra didn’t know how much of that to believe. Morrigan remained cagey about specific details, and Cassandra was fairly certain Morrigan knew exactly who was sending the texts. She almost had a mind to hack the phone herself, and probably would have if it wasn’t hidden in the backseat, stuffed into a potato chip bag. The foil blocked the GPS, Morrigan claimed. Cassandra let the matter drop. 

She gazed out the window, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face. The desert flew by in a blur. At least Morrigan was being truthful about taking them to the location tattooed on Cassandra’s wrist. It was just outside of El Paso, Texas. Ten more hours of driving.

The truck had been silent for the last hour. Everly was in the backseat behind Cassandra, slumped down so low Cassandra had to turn all the way around to see her. When they had first left the hotel, Everly hung off the back of the passenger seat, incessantly asking questions. Cassandra demurred on most of them, still avoiding the issue of why the Nine was sent. That was the part Cassandra had received the clearest orders on: the less said, the better. But when Morrigan had asked about the Nine, Cassandra couldn’t say much about that, either. You didn’t fight a Nine. You ran from it. 

Morrigan called them “terminators” but in Cassandra’s world they were just “revs,” named that after the obvious revving sound of the 300 series’ gears. The Threes were the first, and were also easily marked. They made too much noise, their movements stilted and awkward, the so-called skin on their faces sloughed off when exposed to the outside elements for too long. The 500 series were an improvement--they got closer to the human refugee camps and bunkers--but the skin still wasn’t right and the motion was off. 

But the Sevens were lethal. Virtually undetectable until they were right on top of you. By then you were already dead. If you got enough warning and firepower, you could take it out, though. Or hold it off long enough to let others get away. 

The Nines existed only in rumor and conjecture, whispers passed from soldier to soldier about an indestructible rev that could change shape. Cassandra almost laughed the first time she heard the stories. Everly--Top--had gotten mad and told the entire unit to shut the fuck up about it until they had proof. Like anyone needed more reasons to have nightmares. 

Augments were the resistance’s answer to the revs. A highly experimental, highly dangerous procedure that killed half the soldiers who volunteered for it. There were only a handful of augments, spread out over the various resistance fronts, but every one of them could stand toe to toe with a Seven. As far as Cassandra knew, no one had ever faced a Nine. 

From the backseat, Everly had asked Cassandra why she volunteered for augmentation. Cassandra didn’t answer that question, either. 

The silence dragged on. Spinning around in her seat, Cassandra turned to check on Everly. She sat with her arms crossed, staring vacantly out the window, eyes rimmed with tears. The color was steadily draining from her face. She started clearing her throat. 

Cassandra scanned the highway. They hadn’t seen another vehicle in the last half hour. Nothing but desert along the horizon. “Pull over,” she said. 

Morrigan balked. “What?”

“Just do it.” 

Before they even came to a stop Everly was bolting out of the truck, shirt flapping behind her. She made it several yards before she fell to her hands and knees and retched. 

“Jesus Christ,” Morrigan grumbled. 

Cassandra just shot her a look and grabbed a water bottle.

The sun had begun to set, casting the surrounding brush in a gentle glow. Her steps were quiet across the soft ground. The silence unnerved her, used to hearing the crunch of bones under her boots. She crouched next to Everly, offering the water. Everly rinsed her mouth and began tearing at the button down. 

“Stupid fucking thing. My entire family is dead and I’m here running around with goddamn fruit on my shirt,” Everly spat, throwing the shirt into the dirt. Cassandra picked it up, turning the fabric over in her hands. Garishly colored pineapples smiled back up at her. The pattern was absurd, although in a different life--a different time--she wondered if she would have found it amusing. 

Everly sat back heavily and hugged her knees to her chest. “The future you talk about...I don’t want it. Any of it.”

Cassandra shrugged lightly. There was no comfort to offer. “I’m sorry.” 

“Are you sure you have the right person?”

“Of course,” Cassandra said with a stab of defensiveness. 

Everly turned her head with a curious look. “You  _ know _ me, don’t you?”

Of all the questions Cassandra had been peppered with, somehow this was the one she was least prepared to answer. She kept her eyes straight ahead and nodded. 

“Is that why you came?”

Another nod. “You saved my life. When we found the time displacement equipment and realized what had been done, I volunteered. I wasn’t going to--I couldn’t let them hurt you.” She swallowed thickly, mouth suddenly parched. “I was the only augment available, but still. It was the least I could do.” 

Everly handed over the water, still looking at her. Cassandra felt like she was being sliced open under that gaze, right along the line of every scar that traversed her body. She had always been a shitty liar. She wondered if Everly had figured that out yet.

“I saved your life, you save mine. Simple.” Everly’s tone suggested the matter was anything but. 

“Yes. Simple,” Cassandra agreed. 

“So why aren’t you telling me everything?”

The shadows grew long across the ground as the sun sank deeper. Cassandra sighed, still clutching Everly’s shirt. “You--future you--gave me a message. You said it was important. Made me memorize it.” She finally turned her head, and was rewarded when Everly’s eyes went round. 

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“Are you ready? It’s absolutely vital.” 

“Tell me!” 

“Here it is.” The corner of Cassandra’s mouth twitched. “Fuck fate.” 

Everly stared at her like she had grown a second head. Then she flopped onto her back, sending little plumes of dirt into the air. Her laugh was bright and full, echoing across the entire desert. The sound filled Cassandra to the brim. She had heard that laugh many times before, in places where it had no right to exist, piercing the horrible dark and leaving a shimmer of light in its wake. 

“Let it be known that I am one eloquent bitch!” Everly thrust a fist into the sky. “Fuck fate!” 

Cassandra’s smile was widening before she even realized it. The gesture never came easy to her, even before the war. Now it was borderline impossible, with most of the left side of her face unresponsive. Even augmentation had failed to revive the dead nerves in her cheek and chin. Everly had literally held Cassandra’s face together for hours, until she could receive proper medical attention, and by then most of the feeling was gone. 

“Do you think you can change it?” Everly stopped laughing. “The future, I mean. Like Morrigan did.” 

Cassandra had never considered the idea before. She thought about Morrigan trying to shape the fate of her son, a victory that turned so suddenly into defeat. But then she remembered trying to feed Chloe the peaches her father had died trying to protect, the little girl wasting away in her arms. 

“I don’t know,” Cassandra said. She handed Everly’s shirt back to her. 

Morrigan was leaning against the hood of the truck, irritation radiating off her. A familiar tension gripped Cassandra and she snapped to her feet, scanning the horizon. Everly stood and brushed off her jeans. They walked back to the truck in silence, Cassandra casting quick glances to the sky. 

They were greeted with a mocking bow. “You have my profound gratitude for not doing that in my car.” 

Everly fired an obscene gesture at Morrigan’s face and slid into the back. Cassandra resumed her position in the passenger seat. Morrigan gunned the accelerator and they continued heading east. Rummaging around under the seats, Everly came up with a bag of potato chips. She leaned forward and dropped it Morrigan’s lap, earning a half-hearted thanks. 

“Hey Cassandra,” she asked softly, “what were you saying about the Fives? How they were easy to spot because of the way they moved or something…?”

Cassandra’s jaw tensed. “Later. Why don’t you try to get some rest?”

All she got was an annoyed huff in response. She didn’t acknowledge it, instead just focusing her auditory sensors on the backseat while she scanned the road ahead, dusk giving way to nightfall. After a few low mutters of discontent, eventually the only sound was soft, steady breathing.

“She’s doing well, all things considered,” Morrigan said, gravel-voiced, but almost approvingly. It was the first thing she had said in hours. 

“Why did you decide to help her?” 

A wan smile crossed her face. “Because I was her, and it sucks. I never puked, though. Was always proud of that.” 

For the second time that day, Cassandra’s mouth twitched in amusement. They drove into the night. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Los Angeles, CA**

**July 2042**

The bunker was surprisingly quiet. It actually had been for months, something Cassandra had only recently realized. And it wasn’t due to a decline in population; in fact, the number of scavengers that now resided in the blown out parking structure had practically doubled. But the surplus had not resulted in more wails of hunger and despair. Instead, Cassandra just heard low voices murmuring in the darkness, uttering words of kindness. Occasionally, a chuckle would drift down the concrete corridors, nothing more than the wisp of a sound that would vanish if you listened too hard. Children played with makeshift toys instead of hunting rats. Older adults exchanged stories and food and worked together to mend the equipment of the soldiers living amongst them. 

Cassandra could not have fathomed such a change when she first joined the 3rd. But they kept winning, kept fighting, kept taking more and more ground back from the machines. And then the atmosphere shifted. The air tasted less stagnant. The tons of concrete overhead felt less oppressive, the hunger pangs less severe. It was as if people had started to hope. 

And Cassandra, in spite of herself, started to hope too. Mostly because of the small, trim sergeant currently taking up more than her fair share of their steadily eroding couch. 

Everly was lying practically on top of her, dead asleep with her face buried in Cassandra’s neck. Their rifles were propped up together, Everly’s boots lined up precisely next to them. Cassandra threaded her fingers through the short hairs at the base of Everly’s neck. They were both covered in dirt and grime but it didn’t bother her. With her other hand, she flipped through the channels on her radio. Listening. 

Something was brewing, she was sure of it. Despite the resistance’s slow, grinding progress in Southern California, led by the 3rd Recon, several of its best soldiers had been abruptly transferred to the Colorado front, including Captain Lavellen and Lieutenant Nightingale, the 3rd’s intelligence officer. In an unprecedented move, Colonel Cadash, the commanding officer of the forces amassed outside of Denver--and former commander of the 3rd Recon--had been bumped up directly to Central Command. In her place was Major Adaar, a decorated veteran of both the Los Angeles and San Francisco campaigns. He had also served in the 3rd. When news of the shuffle had reached their bunker, Everly praised the moves, speaking highly of both officers. 

Still, it struck Cassandra as odd that so much talent and resources were being dedicated to what appeared to be a strategically insignificant area. Most of Legion’s manufacturing capabilities were in Los Angeles, and for years the resistance’s efforts had focused on disrupting those capabilities. Just this evening Everly’s and Cassandra’s squad had led a successful raid on one of the automated factories that produced the plasma cannons used by the Mark Seven and Eight aerials. Why the resistance would change strategy now, she had no idea. 

She continued to scan her radio, searching for more news or hints as to additional troop movement, but the communications were nothing but routine. Reports of patrols from all nearby sectors, looking for H-K tanks to disable and salvage components from. A long range recon team--from the 4th or 5th battalion, maybe--was on the run from a new Mark Eight aerial. It didn’t look good, but the team was led by a feisty sergeant named Hawke that Cassandra had learned never to underestimate. A unit up in the hills near Mulholland Drive was requesting assistance in unshipping a cannon from an H-K Goliath. Another unit had gotten into it out by the beach, encountering a group of Rev-5s dressed in human combat fatigues. They had wasted the Fives, but lost one corporal and its two highest ranking officers had to be medivaced out. Sadly, they had lost their spotter, a beagle, as well. The entire unit was despondent. 

Everly shifted and muttered something against Cassandra’s neck. The words were unintelligible, but Cassandra took it as a request to turn her damn radio off. She obliged and tucked it away, wrapping both arms around Everly and settling deeper into the couch. Just before she drifted off to sleep, she heard the echo of someone pounding on the bunker door. Probably another group of scavengers, looking for a place to rest or to trade supplies. 

But then the dogs started barking. 

Cassandra froze for half a second, heart jumping into her throat. Panicked screams filled the bunker. The sentries barely had time to yell out a warning before they were cut off by automatic weapons fire. 

Everly was off the couch in a flash, landing feet first in her boots. She tore down the corridor towards the gunfire, bellowing at men, women, and children to get down, find cover. Cassandra was right behind her. Over her shoulder she saw Cullen roll out of his nest, a pile of rags and cardboard pressed against the burnt out husk of an old Chevy. Before he could bring his rifle to bear he was hit dead-on, blond curls evaporating in a spray of pink mist. Sera cried out. The dogs abruptly stopped barking.

Cassandra threw herself behind a rust-covered dumpster. Rounds pinged off the metal, ricocheting dangerously close to her head. Across from her Everly was hunkered down behind a chunk of concrete, nearly folding herself into a ball to keep concealed. Bright flashes of muzzle flare lit up the bunker. Ghostly, terrified shadows flickered against the walls as people ran. 

It was a Seven. One of the newer ones, Cassandra guessed. The machine stood nearly a head taller than the other ones she had seen. Dressed in torn shirt and pants underneath a mothhole-ridden poncho, it looked enough like another scavenger to blend in with the others. It wielded a massive RSB-80, a rapid fire cannon designed only for extermination.

Cassandra poked out from behind the dumpster and ripped off several shots from her Westinghouse. Center mass. The poncho burned away, smoke rising from the wound. Other rifles joined in, as the rest of the 3rd took up position and began firing back. It staggered slightly, but kept coming, unleashing molten hell on the human soldiers. The machine moved almost leisurely, as if it had all the time in the world. As if it knew there was nothing that could stop it. 

Fall back. Cassandra caught Everly’s gaze and signaled for them to move deeper into the bunker, where they could regroup and fortify their defenses. Everly scowled and shook her head once, fiercely. Her rifle was slung across her back and a bright blue glow emanated from her lap. It was a handheld mine, the kind used to disable H-K tanks. Just one was enough to take down a full-size Ogre, two combined could waste an entire Goliath. Detonating it in the bunker would kill them all. 

Cassandra watched in equal parts dread and admiration as Everly unscrewed the casing and extracted the arming mechanism. Fearlessly, she plucked out the wiring and began reworking the mechanism even as the machine advanced on them. Even without speaking Cassandra knew what she was going to do. She ducked out from behind the dumpster once more and unleashed the rest of her ammunition on the Seven, hoping she could force it back enough to buy Everly additional time. A burst of cannon fire nearly caught her in the neck. 

Their eyes locked again. The modified mine was in Every’s left hand, and in the right was her sidearm, an ancient Beretta she never took off. Everly winked, then sprang into motion. She darted out from behind the concrete and rolled the mine towards the Seven, at the same time bringing up her pistol. She fired as she dove towards Cassandra. The machine did the same. 

A bright flash, then everything went black. 

When Cassandra came to, Sera was crouched next to her, mouth open in a yell as she frantically shook Cassandra by the shoulders. All she heard was the ringing in her ears. Dust choked her lungs. Pain lanced through her side. She ignored it all. Pushing Sera away, she craned her neck around to look for Everly. 

Through a haze of smoke, Cassandra found her. Everly was lying face down, looking away from her, dirt and bits of concrete caking her hair and fatigues. A pool of blood slowly seeped out from underneath her. She wasn’t moving. 

No.  _ No. _

Panic seized her. A cry wrenched from deep within but caught in her throat, and she was trapped in a silent scream. Trapped in a nightmare. She stretched out her arm to reach for Everly, but she was too far. In all of the months they had served together, been together, breathed the same air and shared the same rations and fought against death at every turn, Everly had never been more than an arm’s length away. 

Someone slapped Cassandra’s hand away as the medics barreled through, Harding dropping to her knees and sliding to her sergeant’s side. She checked Everly’s head and neck and shined a light in her face, then barked at one of them to brace Top’s neck as they rolled her over. Blood was smeared down the side of Everly’s face. Harding looked nervous. She was never nervous. 

Cassandra felt an insistent tug at the front of her fatigues. Another medic was pulling off her vest and tearing open her uniform to prod at her side and stomach. The medic’s hand came away with blood. Their features suddenly fell out of focus as her vision began to blur. Beside her, Sera crouched closer, gripping Cassandra’s hand. Begging her to hold on. Cassandra turned again, looking for Everly, but there were too many bodies blocking her view. She raised her head and looked down the corridor that led to the bunker entrance. Lying in a twisted, smoking heap were the remains of the Seven. Its red eyes flickered once at her, then died away. 

Cassandra didn’t feel pain. Or anger. Or sadness. All she had left was white-hot clarity, a feeling of sheer purpose that lit up her entire body like a song. It was followed by one thought, as emotionless and cold as any fact. 

She would make them pay. 

She tightened her grip on Sera and pulled the smaller woman closer. She spoke slowly, careful to enunciate each word so there would be no misunderstanding. 

“I volunteer. Make me an augment.” 

Sera’s eyes went wide. She tried to lean back, as if she wanted no part in what was happening. “Wh-what? You can’t be serious, Cassandra, just--” 

“Make me an augment.” Cassandra tightened her grip and said it again, growling through clenched teeth. The medic had stopped working, hands paused in midair, staring at Cassandra in shock. 

“Well you heard her, do it!” Sera punched the medic’s arm, snapping them back to work. They dropped the dressing then had just been holding and rummaged deep into their supply, emerging with an encased red syringe. Cassandra turned her head again, looking for Everly one last time before the needle was plunged into her neck. Then everything was dark again. 

***

**Outside El Paso, TX**

**May 2019**

Everly grumbled under her breath as they trudged through the brush, the so-called path they were supposed to be following practically non-existent. Morrigan had insisted they park a mile away from the location of the coordinates and walk in. Still groggy from the car ride, Everly hadn’t thought to protest, but now she regretted not lodging some form of complaint. The morning air was thick with humidity and her shirt had been drenched in sweat after only a few minutes. Mosquitoes buzzed around her face and neck. Brambles clung to her jeans, scraping her exposed knees. She was hot and sticky and dirty and miserable. 

Cassandra was in front of her, following Morrigan. Everly stared at her mostly because she really couldn’t see anything else, but the view was the only thing she couldn’t complain about. Cassandra had removed her t-shirt and was now in only a tank and jeans, and Everly blatantly admired the muscles flexing in her back as they walked. Everly’s eyes also trailed down the white scars that covered Cassandra’s neck and arms, endlessly curious about what they meant and how they had gotten there. 

Although now their pace was maddeningly slow, as Morrigan was leading them in every direction other than a goddamn straight line. In her frustration Everly had tried to push past Cassandra, petulantly stomping over the shrubs and bushes, and each time Cassandra had just sighed and shoved her back into place. On her third attempt, though, Everly caught Cassandra’s hand. 

Their fingers laced together immediately. Cassandra didn’t acknowledge the gesture, eyes still fixed ahead. But she also didn’t let go. Neither did Everly. Even though she was still agitated, she fell into step just off Cassandra’s right hip. 

Eventually the brush thinned and they emerged onto a gravel driveway. Morrigan took them on another impossible zig-zag pattern down the drive, leading them around a bend. Cassandra drew Everly closer, motioning for her to follow exactly, and Everly finally realized the entire property must be mined. Because of course it was.  _ Of course _ Morrigan would recognize the coordinates on Cassandra’s wrist and  _ of course  _ those coordinates to a minefield which  _ of course _ she knew how to navigate  _ perfectly.  _ Because this was Everly’s life now. Honestly, with everything she had seen over the past twenty-four hours, this was the least surprising. 

Somewhere inside her there was still a spark of hope that this was all a dream. Or, maybe even some kind of grotesque elaborate joke. She almost laughed. But then the memory of her brother’s face disintegrating came crashing back in, and her smile faded. 

Cassandra’s fingers tightened around hers.

At the end of the drive was a modest house. Parked near the garage was a white sprinter van, bold cursive lettering along both sides: Darry’s Drapes. Cassandra stopped short when she saw it and turned to give Everly a questioning look. Everly just shrugged. Cassandra released Everly’s hand and reached for the handgun tucked into the back of her pants. 

Morrigan paused at the steps leading up to the front door. She carried a small shotgun with a pistol grip, and even standing several feet behind her, Everly could see Morrigan’s finger tense on the trigger. Cassandra motioned again, indicating for Everly to stay back. As soon as she took another step closer to the house, a dog started barking. The door opened. 

A thin, wiry man stood at the threshold in a simple t-shirt and jeans, a full size shotgun held loosely in his right hand, barrel pointed at the ground. His face was grim, cheeks gaunt and covered with at least two or three days’ worth of stubble, a haunted look in his eyes. Something about him was familiar, but Everly couldn’t place it. Beside him sat a very large, very displeased shepherd mix. 

The man’s eyes changed when he looked at Morrigan. “Hi,” he said softly. 

They stood facing each other for a long while, something passing between them that Everly couldn’t even begin to understand. Finally, Morrigan replied. “Hello, Darrian,” she said, pushing past him into the house, patting the dog’s head as she went. 

Darrian watched her walk by, then turned back to Everly and Cassandra. The shepherd was still growling in Cassandra’s direction. He swung the shotgun up to his hip, scowling. Cassandra held up her hands, moving so that she remained between Everly and the shotgun, then knelt down and whistled softly. The shepherd cocked his head, then padded over to sniff Cassandra’s fingers warily. After a moment’s hesitation, he gently licked her knuckles. Cassandra rubbed the side of his face, whispering something Everly couldn’t quite hear. The next thing she knew, the dog had flopped onto his back and was wagging his tail. 

A shadow passed over the man’s face. The muscles in his forearms twitched. Slowly, he lowered the gun. “What are you?” he asked.

“I’m human,” Cassandra said, still keeping one eye on the shotgun as she scratched the dog’s belly. “Just enhanced.” 

“Well, Ace hasn’t been wrong yet.” Darrian waved them in. “Come on.” 

The house was sparsely furnished; the living area adorned with only a small couch and television. A football game played softly in the background. On the opposite wall was a bookshelf filled with all manner of technical manuals, from car maintenance to firearm guides to engineering textbooks. A bright red toy car sat on one of the shelves. Down the narrow hallway, Everly saw the door to a bedroom, half ajar. She caught a glimpse of a sharply made bed, a pair of combat boots lined up against the wall. 

Morrigan stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed. “That was cute. The texts. How did you do that?”

Darrian leaned the shotgun against the arm of the couch. “When chrono-displacement occurs, there’s a shockwave through time, measurable before the event. I was able to pinpoint those locations and send them to you.” 

“I thought you didn’t know tech stuff.” 

“I learned.” 

Morrigan’s eyes narrowed. Her gaze swept the house, and she jerked when something caught her attention on the refrigerator. It was a photograph, slightly faded and creased, edges beaten down like it had been carried in a pocket for some time. There was a small tear in the upper right corner. The image was of Morrigan much younger, playing with a toddler on a beach. She was crouching in the sand smiling, arms outstretched, bright blue water shimmering behind her. The child was running towards her, mouth open in a wide, joyous grin, a red toy car clutched in one chubby fist. 

Hand trembling, Morrigan reached out to touch the child’s face, then snatched her fingers back like she had been burned. “You still have this?” Her voice caught in her throat. 

Darrian shrugged. “Of course I do.” 

“I thought we agreed--” 

“I didn’t agree to anything.  _ You _ decided.” 

Morrigan whirled on him, chest heaving, and Everly cringed in anticipation of the verbal onslaught sure to be unleashed. Darrian stood quietly by the couch, hands in his pockets. Waiting. 

Nothing happened. 

Swiping at her face, Morrigan stormed out of the house without saying a word.

Darrian let out the breath he had been holding. “That went better than I thought it would.” 

“Shouldn’t we go after her?” Everly asked. 

“She’ll be back.” Darrian paused. “I think.” 

He ushered them both into the kitchen, where he produced three beers from the fridge and set them on the counter. He then took out a cutting board and paring knife and began methodically cutting up a lime. “So, I have an idea what you’re doing here.” Darrian nodded at Cassandra, then looked at Everly. “Can I ask who you are?”

“No,” Cassandra said. 

Everly rolled her eyes. There was no reason to be rude about it. “Sorry, it’s classified. I’m kind of a Big Deal, you see.” She pointed to her chest, drawing herself up to her full height--which, surprisingly, was about the same as Darrian’s. Beside her, Cassandra let out a groan. 

Darrian just chuckled. “I’m sure you are. Morrigan wouldn’t have brought you here if you weren’t. Skynet isn’t in the habit of sending terminators after nobodies.”

“There’s no Skynet anymore. It’s Legion now,” Everly said, oddly pleased at having grasped a piece of relevant information. 

Darrian made a small noise of surprise, focusing very intently on his lime. “Huh. At least that part worked.” 

Cassandra inched closer to the refrigerator. Ace had planted himself at her feet, gazing up at adoringly, and he scooted along with her as she moved. “You’re Kieran’s father,” Cassandra said, patting Ace’s snout. 

“Delivered him myself, when we lived in Honduras. Morrigan did most of the work, of course.” Darrian handed over the beer bottles, each topped with a slice of lime. An awkward smile played on his lips. “I was with him every single day of his life, except when it mattered most.”

“How did he die?” Cassandra asked bluntly, still examining the photo. Everly shot her a look. 

Darrian took a long pull from his beer before answering. “We were in Guatemala, a couple of years after we destroyed Skynet--I’m guessing Morrigan already told you about that. We never stayed in one place for too long, but just before we were going to move I had, um, a run-in with the local law enforcement. Turns out my ID had not been as expertly forged as I thought. I told them to go, that I would catch up with them later. They both refused. I think Morrigan thought that things were safer, with Skynet gone. And, you know, Kieran wanted his dad.” 

He looked down at the floor, kicking at a phantom piece of debris. His face twisted in pain. “Kieran was killed two days after I was arrested. A terminator shot him when he was on the beach with Morrigan. He bled out in his mother’s arms. There was nothing either of us could have done.” Another long drink. “That was pretty much the end for her and I. We blamed each other and ourselves in equal measure. After that, I tracked down the machine that had killed Kieran and blew it to hell. I took its CPU chip and managed to rig a device that tracked the chrono-displacement. Every time I got a notification, I sent the location to Morrigan. I guess it was my way of trying to give her some sense of purpose.”

The naked pain on Darrian’s face cut right through her, leaving her bare to the awfulness all around her. Grief bubbled up in Everly’s chest--grief for him, for Morrigan, for her own family. And for Cassandra, too, who clearly knew loss but never spoke of it. Everly touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry. Truly.” 

Darrian waved her away. “It was a long time ago. But you should tell Morrigan that keeping her phone in a chip bag doesn’t work as well as she thinks it does.” 

Everly laughed in spite of herself and took a drink, glancing over at Cassandra. She was examining her beer, looking lost. Everly took the bottle, shoved the fruit down the neck, and handed it back. “You like lime, right?” The question was almost an afterthought. 

“I don’t remember.” 

Oh. Everly’s stomach twisted, a hot flush working its way up her neck. She felt silly for asking. 

Recognition flashed across Darrian’s face. “There was still a war, wasn’t there?” At Cassandra’s silent nod, he offered a sad smile. “I get it. I wasn’t supposed to see this, either.” 

It came together in one fell swoop. She knew why Darrian seemed so familiar. The haunted but wild look in his eyes was identical to the one she saw in Cassandra’s. “You--you’re from the future, too?” Everly asked. 

”The resistance sent me back to protect Morrigan. I wasn’t much older than you.” Darrian sighed. “I grew up fighting machines. Never knew anything else until I got here.”

Cassandra twirled the bottle between her fingers and took a tentative sip. “I don’t know which is worse--to have never seen all this, or to have watched the world end.” She didn’t look at Darrian, instead gazing through the kitchen window and out over the sun-filled backyard. Nonetheless, Everly sensed some kind of comraderie pass between them. Two warriors, out of time, each still fighting an endless war. 

Darrian went out the back door, silently gesturing for them to follow. Cassandra remained rooted in place, staring at something no one else could see. Everly eased over and brushed her hand. Her entire body jerked, like she had been woken from a dream. Cassandra cleared her throat, jaw set, and they both followed Darrian out onto the porch. 

***

The plan was simple: they would set up a killbox, use Everly to lure the Rev-9 in, and take it down. 

Easy. 

The idea was Morrigan’s. She had returned a few moments later and joined them on the porch; no less surly, but at least somewhat more calm. She had forgone the beer and went for the bourbon instead, pouring it neat into a coffee mug, which probably contributed to her slightly better mood. Cassandra had objected to using Everly as bait--vehemently--until Everly stood up and finally talked over her. No more running, no more hiding. She would fight. She had glared right at Cassandra when she said it, until Cassandra finally looked away and sullenly finished her beer. 

But that meant training, and before Everly knew it, she was standing in Darrian’s backyard gun range, oversized ear protectors over her head, aiming a pistol at a line of overripe watermelons. 

Everly had tried to focus when they had gone into the garage and Darrian revealed his truly Texas-sized arsenal. She had never seen so many weapons in one place, and while she stared, her other three companions had pulled them all off the wall and began speaking so fast they might as well have been using a foreign language. Caliber, gauge, capacity, sights, range, accuracy, rate of fire, modifications--the details flew by at dizzying speeds. Although Everly did not yet know the role she was supposed to play in the future, she understood this was shit she needed to know. She wished she had something to take notes with.

The pistol was a Glock, she had retained that much. A nine millimeter, maybe? Something small to start out with. It was comfortable in her hand and easy to fire, and she unloaded several clips into a watermelon. Or, at least, in the general vicinity of a watermelon. She grumbled and slowly reloaded the pistol the way Darrian had shown her, trying not to look over her shoulder at the other reason she was having trouble focusing. 

Cassandra stood off to the side, arms crossed, somehow both too close and not close enough. After Everly’s first attempt with the Glock, Cassandra’s hands had been all over her, turning Everly’s hips and adjusting her grip and rattling off more instructions. Everly’s pulse immediately skyrocketed and she only heard half of what was being said. Dazed and trying not to show it, she had shoved Cassandra away, regretting it an instant later. Now Cassandra was pointedly keeping her distance, offering a few minor corrections here and there, one eye on Everly and the other scanning the sky. Ace, of course, was right next to her. 

Huffing in annoyance, Morrigan yanked the pistol away and shoved something much larger into Everly’s hands. It was some kind of military-grade assault rifle, the sort of weapon Everly was certain only existed in movies, and the heft was enough to tear her thoughts away from Cassandra’s touch. Morrigan showed her where to flip the safety off and change the firing mode to fully automatic. Then she pulled off one of Everly’s earmuffs and leaned in, her words a cold dose of reality. 

“A terminator has just killed your entire family. Now go.” The earmuff slapped back into place. She gave Everly a friendly shove and stepped away. 

The walls of Everly’s throat closed in and for a moment, she thought she might cry again. But then her grief was swept aside and replaced by something new. Anger. Rage. She brought the rifle up to her shoulder, leaning into it like she had been taught, and unleashed hell. 

Hot metal poured from the barrel until nothing remained of the melon except a fine pink mist. It wasn’t until after she emptied the magazine that she realized she had tears rolling down her face. She swiped roughly at her cheeks and handed the rifle back to Morrigan. 

“Show me how to reload this.” 

Morrigan smiled. 

Practice continued until the sun was low in the sky, until there were no more targets, until her finger stiffened and her shoulder ached and her teeth were almost cracked from clenching her jaw and her head hurt from the ear protection. Every time she pulled the trigger she imagined the Rev-9’s face. She imagined vengeance not only for herself, but for Cassandra and Morrigan and Darrian, for everything that had already happened, and for everything that would end at the hands of machines. When she could no longer lift her arms, she finally backed away from the range. Cassandra’s eyes had stopped their restless scanning and were now locked on Everly. Everly stared back, chest heaving. A look of pride was on Cassandra’s face, mixed with something else Everly recognized only through sheer instinct. A shiver ran down her spine. 

She helped Morrigan pack up the weapons, watching Cassandra’ every movement as she went over to speak to Darrian. The two soldiers wore matching grim expressions. 

“This isn’t enough,” Cassandra said. “We’ll only slow him down.” 

Darrian was already nodding. “Based on what you’ve told me, we need a military grade energy weapon.” 

“An EMP?” Cassandra actually looked excited. “Can you get one?”

Everly slung the rifle over her shoulder as sidled up next to Cassandra. “Like an electromagnetic pulse? That’s a real thing?”

“Yes it’s a real thing. If we have one at close range, it would fry a Nine,” Cassandra said. Her hand brushed against Everly’s hip. 

Darrian sent a look in Morrigan’s direction, almost sheepishly, earning an instant scowl. Morrigan appeared completely offended at whatever he was implying. 

“You’ve been  _ tracking _ me?” she demanded. 

“If you want to keep your phone in a bag of potato chips, then keep your phone in a bag of potato chips,” he said with a shrug. 

Morrigan opened her mouth and jabbed a finger at him. As before, whatever sharp retort she had readied failed to launch. She threw up her hands instead. “I have no idea if he’ll even answer.” 

Darrian shrugged again. “Can’t blame him if he doesn’t. But he’s our best chance.”

Muttering to herself, Morrigan grabbed the remaining weapons and headed up towards the house. Everly went to follow, clutching her rifle and small ammo bag. They were almost at the backdoor when she realized Cassandra was not with them. A wave of panic struck her. She whirled around, almost embarrassed at how quickly she had gotten used to that steady presence. 

Cassandra was still at the gun range, squatting down on her haunches and staring intently at something on the ground. Ace was next to her, resting his head on her thigh. As Everly watched, she gently reached out her hand and brushed her fingertips over the blades of grass. Her usual stoicism had vanished, replaced by a look of anguish clear even from a distance away. The look shifted into one of anger, then resignation. Cassandra’s hand clenched into a fist but it soon fell away. 

Before Everly could take a single step, a firm hand was on her elbow. “When did she get here?” Darrian asked. 

“Um, yesterday. Morning.” Jesus, had it only been a day? 

“Give her some time.” Darrian’s voice was low in her ear. “It takes a little while to adjust.” 

Everly nodded absently, still looking at Cassandra. The hand began tugging her towards the house. “Come on, you can help me clean these. Then I’ll teach you how to make plastique.” Darrian reached for her rifle. 

“Plas...plas what?” Everly finally turned away from the range.

“Plastique. Nitroglycerin, basically. Learned to make it when I was a kid.” 

Everly allowed herself to be pulled inside, but not before casting one last look over her shoulder. Cassandra had risen to her feet. Her hands were on her hips, standing tall in the field as she faced the setting sun. Slowly, her eyes closed and she tilted her head back. The light cast the soldier in a soft glow, and Everly could see every outline of her profile as if it were being painted before her. The sharp nose and cheekbones, the strong, fierce jaw. Full lips. The craggy scar that cut down the side of her face. 

And Everly was certain that in her entire life she had never seen anything so beautiful.

***

After doing a complete sweep of the house, Cassandra decided they would bunk in the north-facing bedroom upstairs. A fire escape had been installed outside the window, allowing for a quick exit into the heavily wooded backyard. The entire property had been mined and surrounded by motion sensor lights; Darrian had shown her the layout and within seconds she committed no less than three route options to her memory. They were set to depart early next morning, Morrigan having successfully scheduled a meet with her military contact at Fort Bliss, but Cassandra took no chances. The Nine would certainly find them. Her luck would run out soon. She could feel it. 

She leaned against the window frame, peering through the curtains and relentlessly scanning every meter of property in her view. Her optics cut through the dark, the readout in her vision displaying every piece of brush, every blade of grass. She was primed, ready to move at the first sign of a threat. Earlier, she had slipped, allowing herself to be distracted by sights and sounds she had forgotten existed. She couldn’t afford to be that lax ever again. 

And yet. 

It felt good to see the sun again. It felt good to be around Everly. And she could not bring herself to apologize for reveling in a feeling she rarely, if ever, experienced. 

Her mouth twitched as she thought about the afternoon at the range. Everly had always been a mediocre shot, at best. Cassandra had bit her tongue, silently wishing Sera and Cullen and the rest of the 3rd could see Top flail about with basic weapons any soldier could use in their sleep. Explosives were Everly’s strong suit, and Cassandra seriously wondered if Darrian was some kind of clairvoyant when he offered to show her how to make plastique. Cassandra couldn’t watch the lesson, though. Instead she had walked the perimeter at least a dozen times, trying not to think of the wild, lopsided grin on Everly’s face as she carefully mixed the explosive putty. 

She heard the noise of boots on the stairs, followed by the padding of dog’s feet. Everly entered the room, holding several books from Darrian’s library and stifling a yawn. She pointed at a spot in the hallway and Ace dutifully laid down at the top of the stairs. Warmth filled Cassandra’s chest. The shepherd was well-trained and would make an excellent spotter after the war, if he survived. As if reading her thoughts, Ace immediately raised his head and let out an affronted woof in her direction. Cassandra chuckled to herself as Everly shut the door. 

The room was sparsely furnished, with only a bed and a small bedside table, complete with a chair and a lamp. Cassandra watched as Everly went to kick her boots into the corner, then stop herself and neatly line them up against the bed instead. Sighing, she sank into the chair and started flipping through one of Darrian’s technical manuals. Her short hair was parted and combed back off her forehead, still damp from the shower, and she was dressed in a black t-shirt and matching cargo pants, both about a size too large. The pineapple shirt was nowhere to be seen. Something about that made Cassandra sad. She pushed the feeling away and returned to her duties at the window. 

Although the entire house had descended into stillness, Cassandra was deluged with auditory input: the turn of a page, pants rustling in the chair, the soft creak of the window pane. A soft whine from Ace. But mostly she found herself focusing on Everly’s heartbeat, so clear to her that the sound filled the entire room. 

She couldn’t help but listen. The steady, strong beat held a cadence she was intimately familiar with. But it was just another distraction. Another indulgence. Cassandra tuned it out. She remained at the window, scanning the property until she heard a sudden thump and nearly jumped. 

The manual was upside down on the floor, as if thrown away in a fit. Everly paced alongside the bed. Cassandra refocused her auditory implants. The pace of Everly’s heartbeat had increased, becoming almost erratic. 

“Don’t you sleep?” Everly said, her voice carrying an edge Cassandra had never heard before. She also didn’t appear to be very interested in the answer. 

Cassandra responded anyway. “A few hours, here and there. As needed.” 

Everly’s pacing increased and she alternated between raking her hands through her hair and rubbing her forehead, like she was unknotting a particularly difficult problem. When she spoke again, her words were rushed. 

“Okay, so if you were sent back to protect me, and I had the coordinates of this location tattooed on your wrist, then I must have already been here at some point, right?” She started ticking points off on her fingers one by one. “Which means I knew that we could find help here if we needed it. Which means that future me knows how this all goes. Which means...I could change it, couldn’t I? Change the future?”

Everly’s look was so earnest it nearly split Cassandra’s heart in two. “I don’t know if that’s possible.” 

“Morrigan and Darrian did.” 

“Really?” Cassandra kept her voice gentle. “There will still be a war. And they still lost their son.” 

Everly’s shoulders slumped as she dropped back into the chair. She leaned forward and planted her forearms on the tops of her knees, head hanging in defeat. “He’ll find us, won’t he? Even if we weren’t trying to bait him. He’d always find us. Find me.” 

“Yes.” 

Everly began to shake. 

An unseen force finally wrenched Cassandra away from her post. Propelled by something she didn’t have the strength to question, she crossed the room and sat down on the bed. Their knees were touching. The room suddenly became even smaller, and it seemed like there was nothing but a hair’s breadth separating them. 

Cassandra felt like she should say something, that she should offer some comfort, no matter how thin or brief or devoid of the truth. But she never lied, especially not to Everly, and she would not do so now. The machine would find them. That’s what it did. If they failed to destroy the Nine, it would hunt Everly until she was dead. 

There was another truth, though, one that had not been voiced but was just as relentless and enduring as a machine. Cassandra had kept it at bay as best she could, shoving it down and locking it away so she could focus on the mission. She  _ still  _ needed to focus on her mission, but in the small room, so close to Everly, that truth was threatening to spill out of her. Cassandra reached out and took Everly’s hand. Everly’s pulse spiked. 

“Cassandra…” Everly looked at their entwined fingers, then raised her head. “What are we?”

When she was younger, before the war, maybe she could have explained it. But not now. The vocabulary had been lost to her. The word “love” came to mind, yet it seemed too small. It was impossible to describe the thousands of tiny ways they kept each other alive. A mere touch had fueled her for days. One smile, a week. After that first kiss--a rushed affair against a scorched, crumbling concrete wall--Cassandra felt like she could win the war on her own. A definition hadn’t mattered. All that mattered was that it had existed. 

Cassandra’s mouth went dry. She cleared her throat and tried to find the words. “Even with everything, you find moments of happiness. A glimpse, really. And you hold onto it with everything you can. You and I...we found some moments.” 

Slowly, Everly turned Cassandra’s hand and ran her thumb over the numbers etched into her wrist. “But how could I have sent you back to do this?” Everly asked. “I can’t imagine asking that of someone. Especially someone I--” She bit her lip, abruptly swallowing her words. Their eyes met. 

The truth poured out of Cassandra, slipping out from the place where she tried to lock it all away. “I volunteered,” she said. “There was nothing you or anyone else could have done to stop me. And I swore I would die before I’d let that metal son of a bitch lay a hand on you. I came across time to save you.” 

Instantly she thought she should pull back, temper the sentiment somehow, but it was too late. Because the fact was Cassandra had ripped herself open to ensure that nothing ever came close to hurting Everly. She would tear the machines from the sky with her bare hands so that Everly would live. In any time. In any war. 

But she needed to find her way back, if she truly wanted to protect Everly. Separate the emotions from the assignment. She dropped Everly’s hand and went to stand. 

And then Everly’s lips were on hers. 

Cassandra froze, years of training and discipline keeping her welded to her spot on the bed. A part of her was still trying to claw her way back, frantically shoveling her feelings back into a box that could be slammed shut. But with each second that passed, it became harder and harder to do. Fingertips brushed against her cheek and her resolve started to melt away. 

Suddenly Everly pulled back, eyes wide, stammering an apology. She tried to jump to her feet, but her knees knocked against Cassandra’s and threw her off balance. Before Everly fell backwards, Cassandra’s hand shot out and caught her wrist. Electricity coursed through Cassandra’s spine at the feel of Everly’s pulse under her fingers. The moment was suspended in time, as if they were both hovering delicately on the edge of a knife. And then Cassandra pulled Everly into her lap.

The kiss was raw and defiant. Their bodies molded together, Everly arching herself into Cassandra, grasping at Cassandra’s face with both hands. Cassandra wrapped both arms around her, pulling her in close, hands reaching under Everly’s shirt to dig into the soft skin of her back. Cassandra felt Everly’s heartbeat thunder in her ears like it was her own. The heat beneath her palms was maddening. She was overwhelmed and needy and desperate all at once, wanting every inch of this woman but almost too afraid to want  _ anything _ , less it be taken from her. But Everly was just as greedy, and seemed to have no hesitation in taking what she wanted. 

They fell onto the bed together, like they had done this hundreds of times before and would do it a hundred times more. Everly’s hands mapped the scars on Cassandra’s body, trailing over every incision that had been made during the procedure. Her lips found the other scars, too, the deeper wounds that had come from a relentless war and never healed The act itself felt almost like a rebellion, as if being together in this way was directly refuting the future and the machines. A spark of light, surrounded by darkness, that Cassandra would fight to the death to protect.

And then, suddenly, there was no future. No past. Only them. 

***

Cassandra didn’t realize she had fallen asleep until she heard Ace’s whine. 

Her eyes flew open, every system on alert. The room was secure. The house was quiet. None of the proximity alarms or mines had been triggered. Ace whined again, a little louder, and when Cassandra rolled over she saw what was troubling him. 

Everly was facing away from her, curled into a ball and caught in the throes of a dream. She was shaking, a sheen of sweat covering her skin. Cassandra reached out and gently brushed her back. Everly bolted straight upright in the bed, the sheets bunched at her waist. Her head snapped around, searching frantically. 

Cassandra sat up and pressed a kiss to Everly’s shoulder. Chest heaving, Everly wordlessly leaned into her. Cassandra didn’t have to ask what the nightmare had been about. She waited until Everly’s breathing had returned to normal, then drew her down onto the bed. On the other side of the door, Ace laid his head back down. 

Everly huddled close, tucking herself into Cassandra’s chest and tracing the scars on her sternum. “I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you. Thank you for coming for me.” 

“I don’t regret it. Any of it, in any time.”

Everly burrowed deeper. When she spoke again, her voice was so low that, for a moment, Cassandra actually had to strain to hear. “I think I would take a moment with you than a lifetime with someone else.” 

Tears pricked at the corner of Cassandra’s eyes and she hugged Everly tighter. Gradually Everly’s breathing slowed and she slipped back into sleep. This time it was peaceful, unburdened by images of death and fire and metal. A small victory, but Cassandra was grateful nonetheless. Soon victories would be rare. Even if they did stop the Rev-9. 

She held Everly while she slept, listening. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Las Vegas, NV**

**September 2042**

“You ass.” 

The words--firm, yet somehow still playful--were the first thing to cut through the haze of pain. Gradually, Cassandra became aware of her surroundings--a beeping monitor, the rustle of sheets, the weight of another person next to her. Everything seemed safe enough. She cracked one eye open, then the other. 

The world exploded. 

A computer screen appeared in front of, displaying rows and rows of data: compass orientation, ambient temperature, vital signs. At first she thought it was some VR display being projected in front of her, but she soon realized it was her actual  _ sight, _ like screens had been imprinted on her eyeballs themselves. The room was small, white, and sterile--obviously a hospital, but more pristine and advanced than any she’d ever been in before. The sharp smell of astringent filled her nose and almost made her vomit. Noises bombarded her from every direction, things she knew she shouldn’t physically be able to hear: the moans and cries of other wounded coming from rooms away, nurses and doctors discussing treatment plans in hushed tones. She could hear people walking up and down corridors that were floors away but may as well have been leading directly through her skull. Every single one of her senses had been ratcheted up to an unbearable level. Her entire body was an exposed nerve. And the pain. So, so much pain. 

Cassandra tried to move, but her arms were welded in place. She blinked. Restraints were strapped across her chest and legs, and both arms were cuffed to the bed. Beneath that, a series of IV tubing and drains snaked around her torso. A scanner zoomed into her field of vision, highlighting each restraint and where exactly they were connected to the bed. Somehow, she processed that they could be snapped in half if leveraged properly. She growled and began pulling, ignoring the agony that shot through her with each movement. 

“Easy! You’ll hurt yourself.” 

It was Everly. Instantly the fight drained out of her and Cassandra felt nothing but sheer relief. She was alive. Everly was  _ alive. _ Her euphoria only lasted for a moment before she was plunged back into anguish. Her teeth clacked together as her entire body seized. Vaguely, she was aware that she almost bitten her tongue in half. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Just breathe.” Everly clasped her hand. “Breathe, Cass.” 

Cassandra squeezed her eyes shut. Sounds reverberated all around her, making her hair stand on end. “Too--too much.”

“Okay, um, just focus on one thing, then.” Everly’s hand tightened around hers. Cassandra untangled their fingers and clutched Everly’s wrist. Beneath her fingers she felt Everly’s steady, strong pulse. The cadence traveled through Cassandra’s skin, up her arm, and into her own chest. The room settled. She started to acclimate to all the raw sensory input, and one by one she was able to tune everything out. Her breathing steadied. The pain began to ebb. 

When she opened her eyes, the displays were still there, but she found that she could process and discard the information as needed and she wasn’t so overwhelmed anymore. Everly sat on the edge of the bed, her hand on top of Cassandra’s. She perched stiffly, as if her chest or stomach were bandaged, but whatever visible injuries Everly had sustained from the attack on the bunker appeared to have healed. And although she was smiling, there was a sadness in the expression that Cassandra had never seen. Dark circles were under her eyes and her face was haggard and drawn.

Everly shook her head and sighed. “Do you know how long it took me to find you? It’s damn near impossible to locate this place.” 

Cassandra only managed a soft croak in reply. “Where?”

“A top secret facility just outside Las Vegas. It’s where all augmentations are performed. But grunts like me aren’t usually privy to that info.” 

Cassandra’s gaze raked over Everly’s messy hair and dirty fatigues. She looked like she hadn’t washed or slept in weeks. Her eyes dropped to Everly’s sidearm and the scanner came to life again, identifying the pistol as a 9mm Model M9A1 Beretta. An indicator flashed, warning her of the weapon’s presence. She ignored it, and the flashing stopped. The scanners then zeroed in on the barcode on Everly’s bare forearm, and suddenly her identification information appeared:

_ 1SG TREVELYAN, EVELYN L  _

_ TECH/COM CF051284 _

_ DOB: 08/29/1997 _

_ B NEGATIVE _

_ NO RELIGIOUS PREFERENCE  _

_ CURRENT STATUS: ***AWOL*** _

Cassandra couldn’t say she was surprised. “How did you..?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” Everly’s smile fell. Tears glistened in her eyes. She bent over to kiss Cassandra’s hand. “Christ, when I woke up in that field hospital and found out you volunteered...you could have died during the procedure. Why would you do that?”

“I thought you were dead.” Cassandra almost shrugged. 

Everly shook her head more defiantly, as if Cassandra’s answer was unacceptable. “This isn’t what I wanted for you.” 

“It’s not your choice.” 

Everly looked away, tears rolling down her cheeks. Cassandra wanted nothing more than to reach up and take Everly’s face in her hands and kiss those tears away and tell her that everything was going to be okay. What about this didn’t she understand? Everly would always be safe from the machines now. 

“There’s something big going down. All the augments are being reassigned and moved to Colorado.” Everly swallowed hard, her words lodged in her throat. “You’re probably going to be transferred, I don’t even know…” 

More tears fell. Everly swiped at them with an open palm. Cassandra held Everly’s wrist, massaging the soft skin there as gently as she could. The dexterity in her fingers had not fully returned and the gesture felt clumsy. 

“Everly. I’m not leaving you,” Cassandra said. 

“You’ll go where the brass tells you to go.” 

“What are they going to do? Stop me?” she said dryly. Covered in tubing and fresh scars, still strapped to the bed, Cassandra assumed it would be some time before she did much of anything. But once she healed, she would be damn near unstoppable. No--she  _ would _ be unstoppable. She would tear every machine she saw to pieces. 

Everly chuckled half-heartedly, but the sadness was still there and had migrated to her soft grey eyes. And Cassandra was done with the restraints. 

“Undo this,” she said. Everly paused for half a breath, then swiftly unbuckled the restraint. As soon as Cassandra’s hand was freed, she reached up and caught Everly’s face. Everly pressed Cassandra’s hand to her cheek, then turned her head and kissed her palm. Tears dampened Cassandra’s fingertips. 

“You’re a stubborn idiot,” Everly muttered. 

Cassandra stroked the side of Everly’s face with her thumb, wishing she could hold her close. Instead, she spoke plainly. And while words had never been her strength, Cassandra had always told the truth. 

“Maybe so. But I’m not going to let anything hurt you again.” 

Everly’s entire body slumped forward, like all her strength had suddenly rushed out of her. More tears dripped onto Cassandra’s hand. 

Everly didn’t reply. 

*******

**Outside El Paso, TX**

**May 2019**

Everly sat on the porch as Cassandra, Morrigan, and Darrian finished loading the van. She had done her best to help; organizing the pipe bombs she had made last night, stacking ammo cases and first aid supplies, taking note of which weapons were chosen and why. The three of them still spoke in that strange shorthand, though--half-sentences and acronyms that made Everly feel like she wasn’t even there. It annoyed the shit out of her. She ended up snapping on Morrigan, demanding an answer to a question she had already forgotten, and they had ended up in a yelling match. Cassandra had appeared out of nowhere and barreled between them, almost knocking Morrigan over. Darrian managed to broker peace when he suggested--very strongly--that Everly go start another pot of coffee.

So now she just observed, holding the small bag of bombs in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other. Ace sat next to her as she watched the clipped efficiency with which they moved. Well, the way Cassandra moved. Everly swirled the coffee in her mug and bit her lip hard, trying not to be so obvious. 

Last night had taken her by surprise, yet it felt like an obvious culmination of the past two days--not just a release of tension, but a joining that was preordained by something beyond Everly’s understanding. Cassandra’s usual confidence and stoicism had abandoned her, leaving her lost and almost drowning. Everly had guided her through it, giving and taking instruction in turn, marveling at all the ways Cassandra’s body responded. Like Everly had brought parts of her to life that had been dead and forgotten for years. 

She thought about what would happen after. A life of running and living off the grid was not what she had ever expected for herself, but she thought she could do it as long as it was with Cassandra. They were supposed to go south, keeping away from large population centers, and remain hidden for as long as possible. Though Everly had no idea how they were supposed to cross over to Mexico, nor how two white women were to remain inconspicuous while traveling through Latin America. Cassandra seemed unconcerned with those details, and Everly wondered what other abilities Cassandra had acquired through augmentation. Maybe forgery and language skills were part of the upgrade. Or maybe they would link up with other soldiers already preparing for the future war. 

Maybe Everly would finally find out why the fuck she was so important. 

But the idea of hiding, when she knew for a fact that billions would die, did not sit well with her. There had to be a way to stop it, or at least warn people. Get them to prepare, to train. She couldn’t just sit by and not do anything. But who would believe her? At the very least, there was a younger Cassandra alive out there, completely unaware of the coming storm. Shouldn’t they try to save her, too? 

She sighed and drained her coffee. Christ. Just thinking about this was driving her crazy. And they still had to face the Rev-9. Everly closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache. Ace let out a soft woof. 

Next thing she knew, Cassandra was standing in front of her, gently pulling her to her feet. She slipped a bulletproof vest over Everly’s head, reciting one last series of urgent instructions.

“Stay low and keep behind us,” she said, tightening the vest and strapping the small bag to Everly’s chest. “You can help reload, but if you don’t know how to use something, don’t touch it. And for the love of God, please  _ listen _ when we--”

“Do you always worry this much?” 

Cassandra’s hands stilled and came to rest on Everly’s hips. “Only about you,” she said softly. Standing on the porch step, Everly was now at Cassandra’s height. She slipped her arms around Cassandra’s neck and pulled her close, lightly bumping their foreheads together.

“How many do you have left?” Everly asked. 

Two syringes appeared from Cassandra’s back pocket. Everly’s chest tightened. She thought there were more. She plucked one from Cassandra’s hand and stashed it in her chest bag. It seemed like a prudent decision, especially if Everly was supposed to remain out of danger as much as possible. 

A disgusted noise came from across the driveway. Looking over Cassandra’s shoulder, Everly saw Morrigan standing by the van, arms crossed. “Figures.” 

Darrian suddenly appeared from behind the cargo doors. “Let them be, Morrigan. You know what it’s like.” 

Morrigan rolled her eyes and resumed her last preparations. Darrian shot Everly a wink, then whistled. Ace darted off the porch and Darrian began strapping the dog into his own vest--one that decidedly looked far more advanced than Everly’s, sporting a harness, antenna, and battery pack. 

Everly frowned. “How come the dog gets the nice vest?”

“He’s better trained than you are.” Cassandra caught Everly’s chin and kissed her cheek. Everly blushed and glanced away. 

The trees began to stir, a slight breeze kicking up through the branches overhead. A shadow crept across the drive as the morning sun disappeared behind a bank of clouds. Cassandra stiffened, eyes looking to the sky. Ace started to growl. 

“We need to go.” Cassandra took Everly’s hand and pulled her off the porch. Darrian grabbed the empty coffee mug and quickly locked up the house. Everly threw one last look behind her before she was loaded in the van and they sped away. 

***

**Fort Bliss**   
****

**Otero County, NM**

**May 2019**

“You see, there’s just so much more to it than picking a color. It’s the texture, the weight of the material,” Darrian was saying. “One wrong choice could destroy the look of the entire room.” 

Everly was hanging half out of the parked van’s passenger window, arms dangling down the side of the door. She gestured excitedly. “Of  _ course _ . That makes perfect sense.” 

A low groan came from Cassandra’s position in the driver’s seat. A similar noise came from outside the vehicle, where Morrigan had been pacing in front of the hood. She stopped just long enough to shoot a glare at Darrian’s head, who was standing in front of the passenger door. Darrian and Everly just ignored them both. 

They had pulled into the decommissioned hanger hours ago, waiting for Morrigan’s military contact to arrive. They were safe enough--the hanger was fairly remote and obviously provided them cover--but Everly soon grew bored. Cassandra was wound too tightly for anything more than one word responses, and Morrigan was just generally irritable. Ace was asleep in the back. Darrian was the only one who was interested in talking, and what he wanted to talk about was drapes. Everly was more than happy to oblige. 

Darrian continued. “There was this one customer that came in. He wanted to have solid color drapes in a little girl’s room.” 

Everly gasped. “No!” 

“Exactly. I told him: don’t do it. You need butterflies, polka dots, balloons--”

A shaft of late afternoon light cut across the concrete floor as the hanger door cracked open and a nondescript jeep slowly rolled in. The man driving left the vehicle running as he got out. He was a blond, burly guy dressed in what Everly guessed were generic army fatigues, easily larger than Darrian although he seemed younger. In his hand was a densely armored briefcase. He looked very much like he wanted to be anywhere else. 

Morrigan sauntered over to him, smelling blood in the water. “Hello, Major Theirin. It’s good to see you.” 

“I wish I could say the same, Morrigan.” The major glanced around skittishly, eyes widening as he took in Morrigan’s companion. “Darrian?”

“Hey, Alistair.” Darrian said, a hint of affection--and perhaps apology--underneath his usual gruff tone. “Sorry to drag you into this.”

Alistair shrugged. “It’s been awhile since the last time you two tried to fuck up my life. Figured it was due.” 

Despite the attempt at humor, Everly could see the tension in Alistair’s jaw all the way from her seat in the van. She glanced to her left. Cassandra’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. The plastic creaked underneath her hand. Her eyes looked past Alistair and the jeep, like she was listening to something far away. 

“Always a pleasure.” Morrigan gave a half bow and reached for the case. Alistair pulled it back, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’m not going to ask what you need this for. But we are  _ even _ , yeah?” He gave Morrigan a hard stare. 

“Yes, we’re even.” Morrigan met his stare, and Alistair released the case. “For Nicaragua. But not for Venezuela,” she added. 

Alistair’s shoulders fell. He groaned loudly. 

“Venezuela?” Darrian growled. 

“Ooooh, what happened in Venezuela?” Everly called from the van, dangling even further out of the window.

Alistair threw up his hands. “Who the hell are  _ you _ ?” 

“I’m kind of a--”

“She’s part of my ops team, and she needs to shut up.” Morrigan jammed the case into Everly’s chest, pushing her back into her seat. Everly made a face. 

Clearly agitated, Darrian crossed his arms and looked back and forth between Morrigan and Alistair. “You never said anything about Venezuela.” 

“Oh, she didn’t? How tragic! It’s a thrilling story that ends with me picking shrapnel out of my ass for an entire week,” Alistair said. 

“Not my fault it’s such a big target.” 

Ignoring the bickering, Cassandra silently took the case into her lap and examined the device inside. Everly scooted over, craning her neck to see. Nestled against thick foam padding were two short, fat cylinders that resembled matching thermoses in a school lunch box. She couldn’t fathom how something so unassuming was supposed to fry the Rev-9, let alone how to even activate the damn thing. 

“Will this work?” she asked.

Cassandra’s eyes roved over the device. Not for the first time, Everly wondered what Cassandra was seeing when she stared so intently like that. After a moment, she nodded. 

“The range is smaller than I would like. But yes, it should.” Cassandra snapped the case shut and placed it between the seats. Ace sat up suddenly in the back. Cassandra cocked her head. Everly swore for a second she actually saw her ear twitch, but before she could comment on it, she was roughly shoved onto the floor in front of the passenger seat. Cassandra started yelling. 

Everly heard the thrum of helicopter blades first, followed by the crack of automatic weapons fire. Bullets sprayed into the hanger. Several shots pierced the windshield, leaving spiderweb cracks in the glass. Someone cried out in pain, and the side door slammed shut so hard the entire van shook. Morrigan screamed for Cassandra to go. Cassandra ducked down and gunned the accelerator, throwing the van into a tight U-turn. Everly grunted as she was wedged between the seat and the door. 

They flew down the hanger and hit the back entrance, plunging right through the doors and emerging into the desert. Everly raised her head to peer through the passenger window. The helicopter dove sharply, coming right up alongside the van, hovering only a few feet off the ground. Everly locked eyes with the Rev-9. The machine stared back impassively and leveled his rifle directly at her head. 

“Move!” 

Morrigan appeared between the driver and passenger seats, crouching down and wielding a carbine with an underslung grenade launcher. Without a second thought, Everly reached over the seat and threw open the passenger door. Morrigan fired. 

The helicopter jerked to one side. The grenade missed by mere inches, hitting a tree instead, flashing so bright on impact it was like a bolt of lightning had just struck from above. The Rev-9 jerked the chopper again to avoid the explosion, but it spun awkwardly on its axis and its left strut became entangled in a row of power lines. 

A strong hand grasped her collar and yanked. Everly slammed the door shut and tumbled backwards, almost landing on top of Morrigan. A low grumble came from the driver’s seat--one that could almost be described as long-suffering, even though that didn’t exactly make sense--and Cassandra shot her a look. Blood dripped steadily down her arm from two bullet wounds in her bicep. Everly gasped and had to stop herself from reaching out. Cassandra jerked her head sharply, and Everly followed Morrigan into the back of the van. 

Laying between the duffel bags of supplies was Alistair, writhing in pain and clutching at his thigh with one hand. Thick dark blood seeped through his fingers. With his other hand he unclipped his radio from his belt and began relaying a series of urgent instructions. Darrian was fitting a drum magazine to his machine gun and trying to open a first aid kit at the same time. Ace was hunkered down behind the passenger seat, watching his every move. 

Everly grabbed the kit away from Darrian and started bandaging Alistair’s leg. She had no idea if she was doing it correctly; all she knew was that she needed to keep pressure on the wound. Her hands were quickly smeared with blood and started to tremble. Everly took a breath and tightened the bandage as hard as she could. Alistair yelped, then weakly offered a thumbs up. 

“Head towards the airfield!” he yelled. 

The van immediately lurched to one side as Cassandra changed directions. Everly slowly rose up to look out the shattered windshield. They were headed towards an entrance gate, a group of armed guards scrambling into position. In the distance she could see a gigantic cargo plane sitting idle on the tarmac. 

“Can you fly that?” Alistair twisted around and pointed in the direction of the plane. 

Cassandra turned in her seat and gave him a look of utter contempt, even as she kept the van barreling towards the gate. “Of course I can.” 

“Wait, really?” Everly sat up on her knees and grasped the back of the driver’s seat. 

Cassandra’s jaw tensed. The blood streaming down her arm didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest. “Yes, why?”

“Nothing, that’s just...very attractive.” 

Something flickered across Cassandra’s face. “Shut up.”

The van tore through the entrance to the airfield, demolishing the barrier gate. The assembled soldiers, instead of firing on them, turned their weapons skyward. In the distance, Everly could still see the burning tree and the tangled helicopter, framed against the setting sun. She watched the helicopter right itself and head towards the airfield 

They shot up the plane’s loading ramp, nearly hitting a group of soldiers, and came to an abrupt halt in front of a row of pallets, carrying a range of supplies, from boxes to a full-size Humvee. The group tumbled out. Everly grabbed the case from between the seats and helped Alistair clamber out of the back. Before her feet even hit the deck, Cassandra was running for the cockpit. Darrian let out two sharp whistles, and Ace immediately followed her. 

The soldiers all scrambled in confusion, some reaching for their sidearms, but Alistair cut them off. He ordered them off the place immediately, waving his arms towards the open bay door, yelling some bullshit story about how they were government contractors. Given his rank, Everly assumed no one could argue. Morrigan gave him one last grin and a wave as he hopped off the ramp. For his final goodbye, Alistair held up a middle finger as the plane pulled away. 

The deck rumbled as they gained speed down the runway. Everly huddled down against the side of the cargo bay, still clutching the EMP in one hand, the other grasping the cargo netting. Darrian turned and pointed, yelling to be heard over the roar of the engines. 

“Contact! Take cover!”

The helicopter swooped into view, dropping down behind them on the runway. Another barrage of gunfire tore through the open cargo bay. Everly hugged the wall tighter, mimicking Darrian and Morrigan as they flattened themselves against the netting. Once the fire had ceased they both stepped out onto the ramp, weapons shouldered, lit up by the helicopter’s bright spot light, and fearlessly stared down the machine. 

Everly threw the EMP case onto a pallet and darted forward as the two rifles cracked in unison, unleashing directly into the cockpit. She crouched next to one of the duffels packed with weapons, watching the Rev-9 spasm wildly in the pilot seat as Morrigan and Darrian riddled it with bullet holes. Two loud clangs happened in quick succession. The rotor shuddered, flew off completely, and the helicopter dove into the ground and exploded. 

A wave of fire and heat flooded the bay. An alarm klaxon roared to life somewhere deep in the plane. Red warning lights flashed everywhere. Scalding air seared the back of Everly’s throat and she started to cough. The deck pitched, and they were airborne, rising away from the burning wreck. Darrian turned and tossed his rifle to her, barking for a reload. 

She caught the heavy weapon with both hands, swallowing hard, eyes watering from the smoke still hovering in the cargo bay. For half a breath, Everly actually thought they had made it. 

She was wrong. 

A hand appeared on the lip of the door, followed by another, and the pristine-looking Rev-9 effortlessly pulled itself into the plane. The horrible new truth of her life personified once again, just like when the machine had stepped into the coffeeshop and she had looked into its dead eyes. At that moment, Everly knew, without a doubt, that she would be hunted until the end of her days. And there was nothing anyone could do about it. 

Morrigan moved first, so fast Everly was legitimately surprised. The older woman was nothing but lean, sheer ferocity as she brought her rifle to bear, darting to the side just as the Rev-9 swiped at her with its knife-edge arms. She unloaded on the machine, staggering it with each hit, doing just enough to keep it at bay. To keep it from Everly. Fingers trembling, Everly slapped a new drum magazine into Darrian’s gun and threw it back. Morrigan ducked out of the way. 

The roar of Darrian’s fully automatic weapon echoed throughout the plane’s metal belly. Instinctively, Everly clamped her hands over her ears. She remembered her earlier introduction to the machine gun, and although she still had no idea what the hell it was called, she knew it was designed for infantry squad support. And it showed. Darrian leveled his fire directly at the machine’s face, blowing off its memetic outer layer to display the black endoskeleton beneath. But it wasn’t going to be enough. 

Glowing red eyes looked past Darrian, past Morrigan, to where Everly was hunkered down against the cargo netting. Cold fear gripped her, as if the machine was reaching through her chest and closing its metal fingers around her heart. As if it already had. 

No. Fuck fate. 

Everly reached into the bag, finding the Benelli. She yelled to get Morrigan’s attention and tossed her the shotgun. It was similar to the one Cassandra had used when they first met; Everly guessed it would provide enough punch to keep the machine off balance. And, if they were lucky, force it off the plane. Then she bolted for the van. 

Just as Darrian’s magazine emptied, Morrigan started shooting. Each round slammed into the Rev-9 with an impossible viciousness, like Morrigan was throwing herself into the machine. Like she was taking back what had been stolen from her. The machine staggered, forced to take a step backwards. Then another. Then another, until it was standing on the edge of the cargo door, nothing but empty sky behind it.

Everly yanked open the driver’s side door, reached across the steering wheel, and jammed the van’s gear shift into neutral. Then she threw her shoulder against the open door, putting her entire weight into the vehicle and trying to push it towards the open bay, muscles straining in a way they never had before. The van inched backwards slightly, then started to roll. Everly looked up. Darrian stood across from her, shoving from the passenger side. They locked eyes and together gave one final push. Everly yelled out a warning.

The van barrelled straight into the Rev-9, sending it tumbling out of the plane. Morrigan danced to one side as the van rolled passed her, but lost her footing. She slid down the ramp, clawing at the metal grating, finally finding purchase just as she was about to fall out of the plane completely. Her legs dangled off the lip of the cargo door, strands of silver hair whipping about her head as she grimaced. 

Everly ran towards Morrigan, dropping to her backside and skidding across the deck. She slid towards the open bay door, digging her heels into the grating to slow herself down. Her boot finally caught and she pitched forward, sliding the rest of her way on her belly, reaching for Morrigan and clutching at the grate at the same time, dangerously close to falling out of the plane herself. Morrigan grasped her hand and began pulling herself up, fighting against the wind and the steep angle as the plane continued to climb. Everly’s arms burned with the effort and her lungs screamed for air. Slowly, Morrigan managed to drag both her legs inside and they tumbled backwards together. Everly rolled into the cargo bay and landed on her back, panting. Off to the side, she heard a slam and the whine of the cargo door finally closing. Welcome, blessed relief flowed through her and she almost wanted to cry. 

Then Morrigan punched her in the arm. “You dumb little shit!” she snarled, still breathing hard. 

Everly sat up, rubbing the sore spot on her shoulder. So maybe throwing a van at Morrigan’s head hadn’t been the most thoughtful thing to do, but still. “What the fuck?”

“You have got to be smarter than that.” Morrigan slammed her fist into the metal grating. “You cannot risk yourself. Not for me, for not anyone. And especially not for _her._ ” She jerked her head in the direction of the cockpit. 

Darrian crouched next to Everly and put a hand on her arm. “She’s right,” he said softly. 

Another realization struck her, and it was just as coldly terrifying as the Rev-9. Everly shook him off as she clambered to his feet. “I’m not going to let people just sacrifice themselves for me. Not when I can do something about it.” 

Morrigan and Darrian exchanged glances. Darrian cleared his throat and looked like he was about to speak, but Everly didn’t stay to hear it. She took off for the cockpit, tears of frustration stinging the corners of her eyes. As she stomped away, she passed a small storage compartment with a cross on it, and broke it open to grab the first aid kit inside. 

Cassandra was already barreling out of the cockpit entrance, agitated and furious, barely catching Everly’s shoulders with both hands before they collided. Everly was suddenly grateful for Cassandra’s enhanced reflexes; it would have been the equivalent of plowing into a pissed off brick wall. 

“What the hell happened back there? Are you alright?” Cassandra’s eyes flashed dangerously, even as they scanned Everly for injuries. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Everly shoved her back into the cockpit and towards the pilot seat. “I get shot at all the time.” 

Cassandra’s hands slid up Everly’s neck, cupping her face and tilting her head up so they were looking at each other. Cassandra’s usual scowl had softened into a concerned frown and Everly saw the muscles in her jaw twitch. It was then that she realized they were both shaking. 

“I’m fine,” she said again, and Cassandra only nodded in response. She planted a quick kiss on Everly’s forehead and finally allowed herself to be pushed back into the seat. Kneeling down, Everly opened the first aid kit and gestured for Cassandra to display the gunshot wound in her bicep. 

“It’s not serious,” Cassandra protested softly, but allowed Everly to look closer. “I heal quickly.” 

Bile bubbled up in the back of Everly’s throat but she swallowed hard and reminded herself that it wasn’t the first gunshot wound she had seen today. Unlike Alistair’s, though, there were no rivulets of blood or shredded flesh. The round had pierced the outer layer of Cassandra’s skin but stopped there, as if it had struck pure steel. Blood had congealed stiffly around the entrance wound to prevent further bleeding. Everly slapped on a pair of latex gloves and peeled back the skin to see the round completely flattened against a mesh webbing that ran just underneath Cassandra’s skin. It had to extend throughout Cassandra’s entire body. She plucked the metal fragment out of Cassandra’s arm and began wrapping the wound. Idly, Everly wondered how Brayden would correct her technique if he were here. She wished she had paid better attention when he explained the first aid courses he was taking. 

Everly cleared her throat, feeling the heat of Cassandra’s gaze on her. She focused on finishing her dressing. “Are we still on track?”

“Yes. We can land in an area remote enough to lure the Nine in without drawing too much attention. That Humvee is rigged for parachute deployment, if need be.” Cassandra reported in the same flat, detached tone she used throughout the entire planning process. Everly had come to realize it was also the same tone Cassandra used when she was particularly displeased with something and trying not to show it. It held a cold, mechanical quality, one that Everly was sure she would have found off-putting if she wasn’t absolutely certain about Cassandra’s warm, soft heart. 

She tied off the dressing and glanced up. A brief smile flashed across Cassandra’s face and she brushed a lock of hair off Everly’s forehead. On the copilot seat behind her, Everly heard a disgruntled woof. She twisted around and patted Ace’s head. For a moment, Everly allowed herself to indulge. They were going to pull this off. Everything was okay. 

Until, it very abruptly  _ wasn’t. _

“We have a problem.” 

Morrigan appeared in the cockpit door, Darrian standing just behind her, a stricken look on his face. In her hand was the EMP case. Riddled with bullet holes. Everly lunged forward, yanking the case from her grasp and tearing it open. The device had been destroyed. 

Cassandra exhaled through clenched teeth. The angry hiss filled the cockpit like a viper. “We have to abort.” 

“No,” Everly found herself saying, even as their best hope lay useless in front of her. “We’re sticking with the plan.” 

Cassandra immediately pounced, leaping out of the pilot’s seat. “Absolutely not--”

“I’m not running!” Everly snapped the case shut and threw it back at Morrigan. “We are going to find some more weapons, we’re going to set the trap, and then we’re--”

“No, you can’t do that, Everly!” 

She stepped towards Cassandra, jerking her chin up at the taller woman. “Why?” Everly’s voice dipped low, taking on an icy calm. “Because my  _ son _ is supposed to save us all? And until then, what? Just keep watching people die?”

Cassandra ran a hand through her hair. “The future of the human race--”

“You know what? I am sick of hearing how goddamn important I am!” She jabbed a finger into Cassandra’s chest. The pain and anger and frustration building up inside her finally poured out, and she aimed it at the nearest target. “I don’t give a shit about the future! Or what you think I’m supposed to do someday! What matters is  _ now. _ The choices we make  _ now. _ And I’m going to kill that fucking thing, with or without your help.” She paused and took a breath, realizing what she was suggesting. “But I would really like your help. ‘Cause that seems really hard,” she added quickly. 

Cassandra sank into the pilot’s seat, rubbing tiredly at her face. She looked exhausted. Everly immediately regretted the outburst, but before she could apologize, Cassandra started to speak. 

“You’re not the mother of some man who saves the future. You’re not even an officer. You--” Cassandra looked off into the distance, gazing out the cockpit windshield as the sun finally set. She bit her lip hard, then continued. “You taught us how to fight the machines, showed us how to tear them to pieces and blow them into junk. And those you trained went on to train others, and those soldiers launched an assault that destroyed Legion’s entire defense network grid. We took our world back. But most importantly, you taught us to hope. You reminded us of our humanity. You reminded  _ me.”  _

Cassandra slid from the seat to kneel in front of Everly, taking her hand. Her eyes were bright and wide and earnest. The walls of Everly’s throat closed in. “I have seen the future the machines want. It is brutal and cold and dark. You are the light. That’s why Legion wants you dead. And that’s why I have to protect you.”

The tears that had threatened earlier came back in full force. Everly roughly swiped at her cheeks with one hand, the other clutching Cassandra’s. Everything else melted away as Everly stared at the strong, capable, fearless soldier before her, who was looking at her in a way no one ever had before. And then, all she could think of was Morrigan’s words from a moment ago. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for Cassandra, and there was nothing Cassandra wouldn’t do for her. And that was the problem. 

A light started blinking on the control panel, and an entire radar display flashed to life. A small triangle indicator burst onto the screen, closing fast. Ace leapt to his feet and whined. Cassandra was already back in the pilot’s seat, frantically flipping switches and grabbing the wheel. 

“It’s him, hold on, I’m going to--”

The plane lurched violently, throwing Everly from her feet and into Morrigan. Darrian fell backwards out of the cockpit. A terrifying rumble ran down the length of the fuselage, jolting Everly so hard she felt the vibration in her teeth. 

Then the plane began to fall.


	5. Chapter 5

**Los Angeles, CA**

**November 2042**

Two months after her augmentation, including one month of rigorous physical therapy, Cassandra returned to the 3rd something akin to a conquering hero. Everly’s fears about her reassignment had not come true; Cassandra’s request to remain with her unit had been granted and when she set foot in the burnt out bunker, the air turned electric. Despite the Seven’s attack, all of the soldiers and civilians were in remarkably high spirits. Most had never seen an augment up close, and hushed, awed whispers followed Cassandra wherever she went. It was almost like the treatment Top received whenever she returned from one of her scrounging trips, and Cassandra realized it wasn’t about what she was now physically capable of--it was what she represented. 

Hope. 

The first week back she had stood guard at the bunker door every night until daybreak, fierce and alert, determined to illustrate that the faith placed in her was not misguided. Two days after that, she was given the opportunity to prove herself even further. 

Colonel Cadash had arrived unannounced and with no fanfare, even though officers in Central Command rarely engaged in field missions. A short, stout woman with a shaved head and deep brown eyes, Cadash had commanded the 3rd for almost four years before her transfer to Denver and subsequent promotion. She breezed into the bunker like she had never left, greeting each soldier with a loud, back-slapping hug, including the ones who hadn’t served under her. The most exuberant hello, of course, was reserved for Everly. Cadash had picked her up off the ground and swung her around effortlessly, even though the colonel was several inches shorter. But the gleeful reunions were short lived. 

Central Command was planning a massive offensive involving coordinated, simultaneous strikes against priority Legion targets across all major fronts. Austin, Denver, Los Angeles, San Francisco--every resistance stronghold was going to bring the war right to the machines, reminding the metal bastards that, even after decades of war, humanity refused to be erased. And the 3rd Recon, with its impeccable record, the best sergeant in the resistance, and a shiny new augment, was going to spearhead the assault on the Century Camp. 

The workcamp was built on top of the ruins of Los Angeles International Airport. Like all camps, it had been designed for the orderly, efficient extermination of humans. Century Camp was the largest in the Los Angeles area; not only was it responsible for the most deaths, it was also the most heavily fortified. Ever since Cassandra joined the 3rd, Sera and Cullen and Dorian and the rest had all spoken in no uncertain terms of their desire to strike the camp. Now, they would get their chance. 

Yet later that night, as Cassandra held Everly while she slept, she could not shake the feeling that something else was going on. During her hospitalization, even more troops and supplies and resources had been sent to the Denver front. Nearly every augment had been reassigned. Even though multiple strikes were planned, it seemed obvious to Cassandra that Denver--and whatever the machines had there--was the true target. 

Forty-eight hours later, she was proven right. 

The assault on Century Camp ended as soon as it began. The 3rd, led by Cassandra, stormed the first barricade with the help of air support provided by the 56th Fighter Wing. The machines were waiting, though, falling back and fortifying their position behind two more levels of defense. Beneath the roar of battle, Cassandra could also hear the whine of the disposal units and the cries of trapped humans as they were herded toward their deaths. Rage fueled her as she led the drive to the next barricade, Everly never more than an arm’s length away. 

And then everything stopped. As if a switch had been flipped, the Fives and Sevens guarding the camp all collapsed into inert heaps. The HKs circling overhead dropped from the sky. The disposal units ceased. Instead of the incessant, unrelenting sound of metal and machines, Cassandra only heard hard breathing and thundering hearts, waves of frantic whispering. Everly inched closer, eyes wide. She reached for Cassandra’s hand. 

A voice over the radio broke the silence. At first, the words made no sense. It was an outcome that Cassandra had stopped hoping and praying for years ago, one that was utterly impossible to fathom.

They had _won._

Denver hadn’t been the main target; rather the goal of the coordinated attack had been to create a diversion to weaken Legion just enough so that the resistance could infiltrate its central core. A team of augments had breached the old SAC-NORAD facility in Cheyenne Mountain that housed the core and laid waste to everything they saw. The core was a giant cold fusion reactor, designed to supply Legion with its tremendous energy requirements. It was the key to the machines’ ability to operate. Without it, Legion was virtually disabled. 

Without it, the war was over. 

Cheers of victory rang out over all resistance frequencies, so loud Cassandra winced in pain. All around her, hardened soldiers who had scraped and clawed and fought for survival fell to their knees, openly weeping. A few meters away, Dorian and Josephine threw themselves into each other’s arms, while next to them Sera jumped up and down on the nearest dead machine endoskeleton. Cassandra turned to Everly, eyes glistening, expecting to see a similarly exuberant reaction. But instead Everly was silent, her face a ghostly pallor as she stared at the entrance to the camp. Before Cassandra could question her, Cadash’s voice came over the radio, ordering them inside.

Deep in the compound, they found a heavy set of vault doors that opened to reveal a room the size of a gymnasium. Cadash stood in front of an array of consoles and frantically blinking computer displays, arms crossed, a deep frown etched into her face. Next to her, Cassandra was surprised to see Leliana Nightingale, the 3rd’s former intelligence officer. 

A half-dozen techs buzzed around them like panicked flies. They darted about the room, flying from one console to the next, yelling out numbers and data readouts and frequencies so quickly that even with her enhanced senses, Cassandra couldn’t even begin to explain what was happening. She blinked. It was as if the news of the war had not reached them, or if it had, they didn’t care. She began to feel disoriented, almost light headed, and a sinking feeling settled into the pit of her stomach as her eyes swept across the rest of the room. Her scanner activated instantly. 

The walls consisted of nine-inch thick steel, acting as a shield from outside scanners and radar. Three huge chrome rings were suspended in the middle of the room, held in midair by a massive magnetic field, and in the center of them was a simple platform, just wide enough for one person to stand on. Even though they were motionless, waves of invisible energy reverberated from the rings, making Cassandra’s hair stand on end. Blocks of data scrolled over her visual field as her scanners tried to identify what she was looking at. It was a machine of some kind, certainly, and although its purpose was unclear, it was capable of generating incredible amounts of energy. 

“Sir? We got it.” 

A harried tech appeared at the colonel’s shoulder, fidgeting nervously. Cadash turned. “Location?”

“Costa Mesa, California. Not too far from here, actually.” The tech let out an awkward laugh. 

Cadash leveled him with her glare. “And the date?” 

The tech swallowed hard. “M-may. 2019.”

“I’m going to need you to be more precise than that, Specialist,” Cadash growled. “Now, can you or can you not trace it?” 

“Um, y-yes, sir.” The tech stumbled back over to his console and started scrolling through his readouts again. From the next workstation over, a soft, lilting voice called out. 

“May 19, 2019,” Leliana said.

Cadash placed both palms on the console in front of her and leaned forward heavily. A pained look crossed her face. “And the target’s been confirmed?”

“Yes.” 

And with that, all movement stopped. A tense quiet filled the room as everyone turned and all eyes went to Everly. Instinctively, Cassandra moved to place herself between Everly and the unsettling looks she was receiving. Blood rushed in Cassandra’s ears as she heard Everly’s pulse spike. She stepped closer and touched Everly’s arm, trying to find her gaze, but Everly refused to look at her.

“No!” Everly pushed past Cassandra, her rifle falling to the floor with a loud clack. She shoved the nervous tech aside, almost knocking him off his feet, and hunched over his screen, fingers digging into the console so hard her nails started to tear. “No, no, no, no…” Everly repeated, shaking her head. 

Cassandra secured her rifle and walked over, her own heart pounding, biting her tongue to stop herself from demanding to know what the hell was going on. Jaw tightening, she silently peered over Everly’s shoulder. On the display was a grainy image of Everly hunkered down beside a disabled Goliath tank, yelling into her radio. The picture looked like it had been snapped by a surveillance drone--taken from a distance away, yet still clear enough to provide a full view of Everly’s face.

“Top, do you know what this is?” Leliana inched over, raising a hand to Everly’s shoulder, but almost instantly thought better of it. Everly didn’t say anything. She backed away from the console until she hit the far wall with a thud, then sank to the floor, defeated. She was shockingly pale. Tears welled in her eyes. 

Cassandra whipped around, staring daggers at both Cadash and Leliana, angry and frightened at Everly’s uncharacteristic behavior. She jabbed a finger at the hovering rings. “What the _fuck_ is that? _Sirs_.” she added quickly. 

It was Leliana that answered. “What you’re looking at is a time displacement device, Lieutenant.”

“A...time machine?” Cassandra managed to reply. It was utterly preposterous. It had to be. Yet, the deathly serious tone in Leliana’s voice told Cassandra it was very much true. That there was nothing the machines couldn’t do. 

“A tactical time weapon,” Leliana explained. “It can manipulate time and send a rev backwards or forwards to strike at a designated target, thereby altering the timeline itself. Resistance intelligence operatives hacked into Legion’s communications about a year ago and we retrieved some data that hinted at this weapon’s development. But we could never confirm it. We weren’t sure it even existed. Until now.”

“And it’s functional,” Cassandra said, very slowly. 

“Yes.” 

Everly was shaking now. She tucked her knees into her chest and rocked back and forth, her left hand opening and closing spasmodically, head jerking from side to side. Her heartbeat was raging. Cassandra knelt down and placed a steadying hand on Everly’s leg. Once again, Everly did not look at her. Her eyes remained locked on the displacement device in grim horror, almost like she had known it would be there, like she had somehow expected--

The realization hit Cassandra so hard it stole her breath away. Her hand tightened on Everly’s leg. “You knew. You’ve always known.” 

Everly swiped at her face with the heel of her palm. “I thought I had changed it. I kept my head down, I didn’t make myself a target--I’m not even an officer. I’m not in Central Command. I don’t make decisions. Why do they even want me?”

“Data analysis. Pattern recognition. It’s what machines do,” Cadash answered. “Half the members of Central Command served with you. The 3rd Recon has been one of the most successful companies since this whole thing started. You trained so many of us.” The colonel’s voice tightened. “Obviously, Legion traced the resistance’s success back to you. And now they’re trying to kill you, before the war has even started.”

A rapid beep echoed through the room. Another tech--less nervous than the first one--started tapping on her console. “Sirs, the energy field is weakening.”

Leliana frowned and bent over her own display. “I thought this thing was on its own dedicated power source.”

“Yes, but I don’t think complete calibrations were finished before the device was activated.” The tech’s cool, controlled manner was somehow comforting and off-putting at the same time. “The machines must have known they were running out of time. The entire device is going to destabilize.” 

“Is there enough for one more jump?” Cadash asked. 

“I think so,” the tech said. “But we need to go now, sir.”

Cadash’s gaze flicked over to Cassandra. The colonel didn’t even have to give the order.

Cassandra’s body kicked into gear, a lifetime of soldiering resulting in motions and checks and procedures so routine she no longer had to think about it. And the augmentation made her even faster. Better. A list appeared in her visual field and she reviewed each item one by one. 

Her Westinghouse was clean and functional, no jams or debris in the firing mechanism. Her backup pistol was pristine. Weight was no longer an issue for her--she could scrounge as much ammo as possible and even carry Everly’s usual complement of small explosives without reducing her effectiveness. Maybe even another rifle. Med supplies were a possible concern, but she had three syringes in her pack and similar drugs would still be available in the past if she taxed herself. The mission appeared simple: intercept and evac. The only question was what would be waiting for her when she got there. 

“What should I expect?” Cassandra directed her question towards Leliana as she continued prepping her gear.

“Unknown. We only have remnants of an energy signature. It was probably a Seven.” Leliana paused. “Probably.” 

Cassandra waved her off. “Doesn’t matter, I’ll--” 

“Cass, don’t.” Everly was finally looking at her, soft grey eyes imploring. She shot to her feet and clutched at Cassandra’s forearm with both hands, stopping her from moving. “Please. You can’t.” 

“I can, and I will.” Cassandra reached up and caught the side of Everly’s face. Everly’s skin was hot and flushed beneath her palm. She solemnly brushed away a tear with her thumb. 

Everly looked over at Cadash, pleading. “Sir?”

“You’re outranked, Top. If the machines think you’re the key to this war, we can’t risk anything. The lieutenant is going,” Cadash said. 

Panic rose in Everly’s voice. She dug her nails into Cassandra’s arm. “No, no you’re not, I’m--” 

“Everly--” 

“If you go you won’t come back!” 

Another beep sounded from the main console, louder and more insistent. The woman tech’s eyes went wide. “Sirs!”

Cassandra felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest. Everly stood in front of her, desperate and lost, asking her not to go. Not to leave. And in that moment, Cassandra realized that even though she had never heard those words from Everly before, it was not the first time Everly had said them. She exhaled slowly, steadying herself. The weight of the knowledge that Everly carried--what she had known, what she knew had yet to come--was unfathomable. She wanted nothing more than to take Everly into her arms and build a life free of war. Yet, the same calm sense of clarity washed over her again, just like before she had volunteered for augmentation. It was more than just purpose. It was providence. 

Cassandra leaned forward and pulled Everly into one last, fierce kiss. For a split second, she turned her focus away from the rest of the room and put everything into memorizing the feel of Everly pressed against her, the taste of Everly’s lips. No matter how far across time she traveled, or what would happen when she got there, the machines could never take this away from her. 

When the kiss broke, Cassandra whispered urgently against Everly’s mouth, the beeping over her shoulder becoming more incessant “If this is my fate, I would choose it every single time. Without hesitation. Let me save you.”

“Sirs!” the tech yelled again. “The field is destabilizing!”

“Now, Lieutenant,” Cadash growled. 

Cassandra’s head snapped over, then turned back to Everly and looked into her grey eyes. Everly straightened, wiped the tears from her face, and smiled wanly. 

“At least you’ll see the sun again,” she said, then gave Cassandra a slight push towards the techs. “And when you get there, I need you to deliver a message.”

**Rio Arriba County, NM**

**May 2019**

Water raged around her. She was redlining again, as close to a complete meltdown as she had ever come--worse than her first fight with the Nine, worse than going through the time displacement machine. Blinding, incessant warning messages flashed in her eyes, displaying lines of data she didn’t have the wherewithal to address. She kicked against the current, but her legs were heavy and useless, the implants that ran throughout her body dragging her down to the river bottom. 

Her feet sank into sediment. She was surrounded by murky blackness. Her oxygen levels were dangerously low, but if she passed out now she would certainly drown. And that could not happen. 

By sheer luck, her boot found purchase on a slab of rock. She kicked upwards with all her strength, breaking the surface just enough for a single gulp of air before sinking back down. She pushed up again, kicking and clawing through the water, forcing unresponsive limbs to move. The shoreline was just ahead, and through the red haze in her vision, she made out two figures waving to her. 

A splash, then something tugged at her shoulder. Ace’s mouth was clamped around her tactical vest and he was pulling her towards shore. Someone let out a yelp and waded into the water, grabbing her arm. She heard a bright, familiar laugh. Because of course Everly was laughing. 

“Holy _shit_ , can you believe that?” Everly asked. A disgruntled noise sounded next to her, which Cassandra assumed belonged to Morrigan. The two women stood under each of Cassandra’s arms and hauled her ashore, Ace right beside them. Once Cassandra’s feet hit dry land, she collapsed onto her back, gasping for air. 

The water had kept her cool enough to stave off overheating, but now it started to evaporate, small clouds of steam rising from her boiling skin. Her jaw seized and her head jerked side to side erratically. Patting weakly at her cargo pockets, she searched for one of the syringes she had been carrying. Nothing. She was at a loss for what happened, couldn’t remember where they were or how she ended up in a river. All she knew was that without her meds, she would die. 

Cassandra forced her eyes open, forced her arms to move, searching for Everly. There was one more way she could protect her. One last, desperate piece in their arsenal. And she would give it, gladly, if it meant that Everly would survive. She tried to explain, bringing a hand to her chest, just below her sternum, where the microreactor that powered her implants sat. It held just enough power to fry the Nine. But her tongue was dry and swollen, her throat closing in on itself, and she choked on her own words. 

Just then, she felt a gentle touch on her hot skin. Fingers slid underneath her vest and shirt, and there was a prick in her side. Instantly, her senses roared back to life. Her vision cleared, her muscles stopped seizing, and a surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins. Everly was looking down at her, grinning even though she was utterly soaked. The bag carrying the plastique and one of the syringes was still strapped across Everly’s chest. Everly tossed the needle away and brushed a lock of hair off Cassandra’s forehead. 

“Welcome back, soldier,” she said. 

Cassandra leapt to her feet, her memory rushing back, finally allowing a full assessment of the situation. The Nine, in a brazen move Cassandra had never seen from a machine before, had hijacked a KC-10 Extender refueling tanker and literally crashed it into their C-4 at thirty thousand feet. Both planes became entangled as they plunged back to earth, allowing the Nine to board. She remembered fighting the zero gravity as they dove sharply, somehow wrangling both Everly and Ace by their respective vests and shoving them into the humvee, Morrigan not far behind. Darrian unloaded his M249 Paratrooper at the machine, twisting in midair as the kick of the gun sent him literally flying backwards. She was sure he had made it into the humvee. Cassandra broke the restraining straps by hand and pushed the vehicle out herself, clutching to the chassis underneath as the parachute opened and they descended toward the river. The fiery hulks of the two planes had followed them down, barely missing the humvee by inches. 

Cassandra scanned their surroundings. The aircraft wrecks still burned downriver, lighting up the horizon of the early evening sky. Approximately one hundred and five yards upriver was a hydroelectric power plant. Alarm klaxons echoed from the facility. Cassandra could see the remains of the guardrail hanging down from the access bridge, torn away when the humvee crashed before spilling over into the river. She assumed the workers evacuated, and, if so, it could allow them a moment to regroup. All their weapons had been lost in the crash, aside from Everly’s plastique--which was better than nothing, certainly, but would only slow the Nine down. 

Cassandra did a quick medical scan of the other two women. While Everly was unharmed, Morrigan was standing awkwardly, with her left arm clamped tightly against her side, fighting an obviously dislocated shoulder. There was no sign of Darrian.

Ace was at her knee. She felt the shepherd stiffen before he even made a sound. On the opposite riverbank was a pair of red eyes, staring at them from across the water. The dog barked once. The eyes vanished. 

She grabbed Everly’s hand and pulled her along the shoreline, Morrigan following with Ace. The plant would have to provide cover for now. Cassandra led them up the riverbank to a side entrance, where the dam had been cut into the high hills surrounding the lake. Morrigan grunted in pain with each step. When they reached the heavy access door, Morrigan slumped against the wall with a grimace. 

“Here, let me.” Cassandra reached for her. 

“What, you’re a doctor now?” Morrigan grumbled, but unfurled her arm anyway. Cassandra prodded her shoulder with two fingers, then wrapped one hand around Morrigan’s wrist to brace it. With the other, she gripped Morrigan’s bicep and shoved up hard into the joint. Morrigan bit back her yell, growling through clenched teeth, and slugged Cassandra across the jaw with her good hand. Cassandra rolled her eyes, but gave Morrigan the satisfaction of a slight grunt. 

A bemused chuckle came from behind them. Darrian’s head poked up from the top of a nearby maintenance ladder. The Benelli M4 was strapped across his back. He grimaced as he pulled himself up the rest of the way, clearly favoring his right leg. He handed the shotgun to Morrigan with a wan smile. Water trickled down his temples and his face was alarmingly pale. Morrigan took his hand and Cassandra watched as his smile turned into a grimace. He had to be in terrible pain, but she had nothing to offer him. And if he slowed them down, he would have to be left behind. A stab of guilt hit her at the thought. Turning away, she wrenched the door open with both hands, metal hinges screaming, and ushered everyone inside. 

Ace led the way, trotting ahead with his ears cocked forward as they descended deeper into the power plant. As Cassandra suspected, the workers had all fled at the sight of the falling planes, leaving the facility running unattended. The machinery thrummed with life, a deep, unsettling vibration Cassandra felt in her core. They ran down a narrow hallway, warning lights flashing from the ceiling, and emerged into a control room that looked over the main floor. Three giant spinning turbines rumbled below them.

Cassandra paused. If they made it across and exited from the opposite side, perhaps they could find transportation. Surely in the haste to evacuate someone would have left a vehicle behind. But a growing sense of dread kept her rooted in place. Everly stood next to her, a grimly determined look on her face, even as she clutched Cassandra’s hand like a lifeline. Morrigan was propping up Darrian, his arm slung across her shoulders to avoid putting pressure on his injured leg. 

Something told Cassandra that her luck, after all this time, was finally about to run out. 

Ace seemed to agree. The shepherd hesitated, sniffing the air once, then began making his way down the stairs. They all started running again as soon as they hit the ground, and made it nearly halfway to the other side before Ace stopped and growled. The hairs on the back of Cassandra’s neck stood on end. She turned, still holding Everly’s hand. 

The Nine stood on top of a turbine, looking down at them. The hint of a grin crossed its face; unsettling and far too human. It walked across the top of the turbine and jumped down. The machine’s eyes swept over them all, then came to rest on Everly. 

“Give me the girl.” The Nine’s voice held a flat, unremarkable affect that would pass in any part of North America. All the other revs had spoken in an oddly mechanized tone, like Legion couldn’t quite get human speech patterns right. But the Nine was perfect.

Morrigan let Darrian go and raised the shotgun. Her reply was simple, the culmination of a lifetime of being haunted by machines. “Fuck. You.” 

The Nine cocked its head, appearing genuinely confused. “She’s a stranger to you. She means nothing. Why sacrifice yourselves?”

Darrian limped over to a nearby work table, picking up an abandoned sledgehammer. He held the hammer awkwardly, his hands wide apart on the handle, unable to distribute his weight to swing it properly. But he still clutched it like nothing would be able to pry it out of his hands. Eyes feral, his snarling voice held the same fury as Morrigan’s.

“Because we’re not machines,” he hissed.

The Nine’s smile only grew wider. He continued to advance. 

Cassandra cast a quick glance at Everly before dropping her hand and pushing her away. They slowly spread out, Morrigan stepping to the right of the machine, Darrian flanking its left. Ace stood behind them, placing himself between the machine and Everly. Cassandra felt another burst of sheer affection for the dog, and his instinctive understanding of exactly who he needed to protect. 

Sitting on the same work table was a massive bulk chain, fitted with heavy eye grab hooks at both ends. Cassandra wrapped the chain around her left forearm and fist like a gauntlet and started to spin the other end, whipping the chain around faster and faster until it was nothing but a blur. She gritted her teeth. If this was the end, so be it. But she would take that fucking thing with her. 

All at once, they snapped into action. The Nine darted forward, faster than any human was capable of. At the same time, Cassandra released the chain, sending it slicing through the air like a bullet. The hook caught the side of the Nine’s face, ripping off half of its outer dermis layer. A blast from the Benelli hit square in the shoulder. The Nine spun around, momentum driving it towards Darrian, who swung the sledgehammer with all his might. 

Nothing happened. 

The Nine caught the hammer with one hand and wrenched it away from Darrian. It brought the handle back across Darrian’s face, catching his jaw with an audible crack. Darrian slumped to the ground, motionless. 

The chain screamed back towards Cassandra and she caught it with her upper right arm, wrapping it around her bicep once. She spun on the ball of her foot, harnessing the energy of the heavy industrial hook, and sent it flying again, striking the Nine’s midsection. More dermis ripped off, revealing the machine’s jet black endoskeleton. Before Cassandra could yank it back, the Nine clamped its hand around the chain and pulled it taunt. Its other hand morphed into a knife’s edge and sliced downward, cutting through the thick links like paper. The chain went slack. Shooting forward, the machine closed the gap between Cassandra and itself in a blink of an eye. Cassandra barely had time to raise her arm in defense, deflecting two quick blows with her chain-wrapped fist. The Nine feinted right, ducked beneath Cassandra’s arm, then stabbed her right through the stomach. 

All the air rushed out of her lungs. She dropped to her knee, still holding the chain. Streams of data scrolled past her eyes, as her implants reported the damage and started repair protocols and rerouted power. Arteries and veins sealed themselves off to contain internal bleeding. The webbing underneath her skin began knitting itself back together, stitching the wound closed. A blinking message told her she was approaching redline. 

Behind her, Everly yelled and waved her arms to catch the Nine’s attention, drawing it away from Cassandra and towards the center turbine. Morrigan moved laterally with her, firing as she walked and keeping herself between Everly and the machine. The shotgun roared, driving the Nine backwards towards the exposed metal fans. One round blew open the side of its face. The machine’s head snapped back and it almost fell into the turbine, righting itself at the last second, just before a fan sliced at its head. A single, gleaming red eye stared directly at Everly before black polyalloy filled in the damage and its dermis regenerated. Morrigan calmly started reloading. The Nine smiled again. 

Cassandra fought through the burning pain in her stomach and growing numbness in her legs. Her implants were frantically trying to repair damaged nerves in her spinal cord, but she couldn’t afford to stop and let them work. She unfurled the part of the chain wrapped around her left arm, freeing the other hook. Still on her knees, she spun the chain once overhead and let it fly. The hook smashed into the back of the Nine’s knee, just as it darted towards Everly, knocking the machine off its feet. Cassandra pulled the chain back and whipped it downward. The hook smashed into its head. When the Nine looked up, Morrigan was there and met him with another shotgun blast to the face. Still, the Nine shook it off and kept coming. 

Cassandra clambered to her feet and threw herself at the machine. She wrapped the chain around the Nine’s face, catching it against the machine’s open mouth like a horsebit, and began hauling it backwards toward the turbine fan. The machine fought wildly, boots scraping against the floor, hands clawing at the air as it tried to reach for Everly. Cassandra held the chain with all her might. Industrial grade steel bit into her palms and began shredding her skin. She ignored it. 

Morrigan moved closer, firing calmly and deliberately into the machine’s torso. The Nine absorbed them all, but with each hit there was a momentary slack in the chain, and Cassandra inched them closer to the turbine. She was dangerously close to the fans herself, the wind from the blades buffeting the side of her face and neck. But she kept pulling. And then the shotgun clicked empty. 

They were locked together, human and machine, fighting a battle that stretched across time. Cassandra watched the Nine’s head jerk to the side, looking past Morrigan, past Darrian’s still form, past the other machinery--to where Everly was crouched down several yards away. Her hands trembled as she pulled out one of her pipe bombs and a lighter. Their eyes met. 

Everly winked. 

Marshaling every last bit of power she had, every last piece of strength, Cassandra gripped the chain and tugged. Her forearms and biceps burned, muscles and tendons slowly tearing, blood seeping from the wound in her stomach. Her implants were strained to their breaking point. The indicators flashed yet again as everything redlined. She had experienced the feeling many times now, and had no fear of it. Instead she just held tighter, pulled harder, willfully shredding herself to pieces to stop the machine. A dark, angry roar came from deep in her chest, so raw she didn’t recognize the sound even as she was making it. 

The machine’s jaw snapped. Its head twisted back at an impossible angle. At the same time, Ace darted forward out of nowhere, barreling into the Nine’s leg and causing the machine to stumble. It was all Cassandra needed. She pivoted on one foot, twisting her entire body to throw the Nine sideways. The ends of the chain caught in the turbine and the machine was yanked into the fan. Cassandra ducked as the Nine reached out and tried to claw at her, while its other hand caught the lip of the turbine, trying to pull itself free. Fan blades ripped into the machine, tearing off its outer layer of mimetic alloy from the waist down. Then the blades stopped abruptly, jammed against the Nine’s leg. The turbine whined in protest and started shaking. 

Over the din of the machinery, she heard someone yell her name. A pipe bomb skittered across the concrete floor, fuse lit, stopping right at Cassandra’s boot. She kicked it into the fan and with her last gasp of energy, leapt away as far as she could. 

The explosion ripped through the facility. Cassandra slammed onto the concrete floor a few feet away, landing hard on her shoulder and rolling onto her back. All she could do was watch as fiery debris rained down around her. A hunk of burning metal landed on her left leg, the impact crushing her knee. She couldn't feel it, though The urgent red display was finally fading away, a black shroud creeping in on the edges of her vision. Finally, her body was giving up. 

Still, she tried to keep her eyes open, searching. She saw the twisted hulk of the center turbine, the thick smoke filling the control room. Alarm klaxons blared overhead. She looked until she recognized a familiar figure stumbling through the wreckage. A small bit of relief flowed through her, momentarily pausing the shutdown. 

“Cass? Cass, baby, look at me...”

Everly fell to her knees and cupped Cassandra’s face with both hands, gently turning her head. Cassandra blinked. The motion was slow and heavy and took far too long. Everly hovered over her, wild and frantic as she examined Cassandra’s wounds, stammering vague assurances about how she was going to be okay, how they would both make it out. Cassandra didn’t believe any of it. 

Cassandra’s gaze drifted over Everly’s shoulder. Morrigan was crouched down by Darrian, fingers pressed to his neck. A relieved look crossed her face. She stood and began prowling about the debris, clutching the shotgun, as a low, ominous groan echoed throughout the control room. 

“It’s not dead,” Morrigan said. 

She was right. They were finally out of time. But Cassandra’s mission was not done yet. 

A triangular piece of shrapnel was just to her left, a tendril of smoke rising from its jagged edge. Cassandra’s arm flopped to the side, muscles barely functioning, and she clumsily reached for the shrapnel. Her fingers slowly closed around the hunk of metal. Despite her implants failing, her vision darkening, she could still feel the wave of panic wash over Everly. 

Everly’s voice broke. “What--what are you doing?”

The groaning became louder, followed by a high-pitched whine and the sound of steel being wrenched in half. Morrigan shouted a warning. The shotgun went off again, then abruptly fell silent. Cassandra heard a grunt followed by a fleshy smack. She didn’t see what happened, nor did she need to. Her life had been devoted to stopping the unstoppable. She knew what that looked like. But it all would end. Now. 

Slowly, she turned the shrapnel over and positioned the edge just below her sternum, where the Nine had stabbed her moments ago. The wound was only half-closed. With her other hand, she took Everly’s palm and pressed it over the shrapnel. Cassandra took a gulp of air. 

“M-my power source. Get close. It will...it will fry the neural net.” She tightened her grip on Everly’s hand, stopping her from pulling away. 

Horror dawned on Everly's face as she realized what she was being asked to do. Tears rolled down her cheeks, leaving clean streaks in the grime covering her skin. “No. No, I won’t.” 

Metal scraped along the concrete floor. The machine was coming. “You...have to,” Cassandra said. “There’s no time.” 

“I can’t!” A sob wracked Everly’s entire body as she bent over Cassandra, grey eyes filled with pain. She shook her head. “I can’t do this without you. Any of it. I need you with me, please, I need you--you can’t leave me, I--”

Cassandra reached up with trembling fingers and brushed the tears away, managing a slight smile. “You’re going to be amazing.” She licked her dry lips. The scraping sound drew closer. “Let me save you.” 

They pushed together, Everly crying harder as the shrapnel pierced the webbing beneath Cassandra’s skin, cutting open a hole large enough to fit a hand through. Everly slowly reached inside, searching for the small, compact processor. Cassandra let out a small grunt, but there was no pain. No fear. Only a sense of purpose fulfilled. 

Everly found the power source. They looked at each other one last time, Cassandra gazing into the only pair of eyes that had ever mattered. 

“I am so sorry,” Everly whispered. 

“I’m not,” Cassandra whispered back. 

And then Everly pulled. 

***

She was falling again. The ground had swept out from underneath her feet and she was falling, tumbling towards a black, gaping emptiness. Everything that had ever served as a touchstone in her life was now gone. First her mother, when she was thirteen, then her father and brother only two days ago. Classes and friends and work were so distant it was as if that part of her life had never existed at all. Even Morrigan and Darrian, two new allies tied together by grief, were both unconscious and probably dead. And the woman who in only a few short hours had made herself utterly irreplaceable, had just given her life to protect her. 

Everly stood, clutching the softly pulsing device, blood dribbling down her knuckles. She carefully placed it in her pocket and turned to face the machine. Alone. 

The Nine looked as if it had emerged from the fires of hell. Most of its outer layer had been burned away, leaving behind a black metal skeleton. Several pieces of gooey, melted alloy still clung to its torso and thigh, and began sloughing off as it shuffled towards her. One leg was clearly damaged and its left arm had been severed at the elbow. In a grotesque act of mimicry, its skull looked surprisingly human, with deep-set eye sockets and visible nasal cavities where a nose should have been. It had a full set of metal teeth and a lipless mouth, pulled back in a mocking leer. Burning red eyes locked onto her. 

Everly picked up the shotgun lying next to Morrigan’s outstretched hand. A Benelli M4 Super 90, with a pistol grip and a five shot capacity. Still loaded. Everly brought the shotgun to her shoulder and leveled it at the machine. Clenching her teeth, she bit back tears as she fired. 

The round slammed into the Nine’s shoulder with a loud clang. The next one hit square in its chest. As before, the shots managed to stagger it, but only briefly. The Nine continued its march, dragging the damaged leg behind it. Everly aimed again, only this time the trigger clicked.

She could hear Cassandra’s voice in her head, telling her to run. Telling her she was too important to risk herself. But Everly didn’t listen. Cold, dark anger filled her, and she turned it on the thing that had stolen everything. She flipped the shotgun around and grasped the barrel like a baseball bat, just the way Brayden had shown her when they were kids. She ran forward and swung. 

The synthetic stock cracked against metal. Everly swung again and again and again, beating the machine until the stock shattered. She threw the shotgun down, pulled the microprocessor out of her pocket, and launched herself at the Nine, aiming for one gleaming red eye. The machine swatted at her hand. Blazing pain shot up her arm and the processor flew out of her hand, skittering across the concrete floor. 

They tumbled to the ground, the Nine landing on top of her. Everly’s bulletproof vest protected her from the brunt of the impact, but unyielding metal still pressed into her thighs and hip. The air rushed out of her lungs. The Nine began clawing at her viciously with its remaining hand, reaching for her throat. Everly tried to fight it off with both hands, tearing her nails on the exposed components of its forearm, but she wasn’t quite strong enough to get away. Metal fingers dug into her forehead just above her left eyebrow and raked down her face. Blood ran over her cheeks and her vision blurred. Everly screamed. 

Suddenly, Ace appeared, leaping through flames and over twisted hunks of metal. He growled and latched onto the Nine’s foot. The machine tried to kick him away but the shepherd was steadfast, pulling on the exposed circuitry and yanking backwards. 

With Ace’s help, Everly managed to scramble out from underneath the Nine. Her left eye was swollen shut. Through hazy vision, she barely made out the power source, still blinking slowly, laying just a few feet away. She crawled forward on her hands and knees and clamped her hand around it. Then she spun around, lurched forward, and jabbed the processor into the machine’s red eye. 

Sparks jetted out from the Nine’s skull and tendrils of white hot energy snaked around its torso. Everly rolled away, almost blinded by the flash. The machine convulsed, limbs twitching erratically. Molten metal poured from its eye socket as the processor popped and sizzled. The Nine’s head jerked. The metal hand reached out, chunks of skin still clinging to its fingertips, groping for its target. Everly pushed herself up onto her elbow. She felt her lips curl into a cruel snarl, an expression wholly unfamiliar to her before two days ago. She watched the machine fry. 

“Go to hell, you metal motherfucker.” 

The Nine spasmed once more, then fell dead. Gleaming red eyes pulsed softly for another moment and faded away. 

Ace padded over and gave her a nudge. There were scratches on his nose and muzzle, and a splatter of blood on his neck, but he seemed no worse for the wear. Relief surged through her, only to be replaced by pain. Her entire body was beaten and sore. Her face was on fire. Blood and fluid dripped down her chin and she was almost certain her eye had been gouged out completely. Worst of all was the aching, empty feeling in her chest. Ace nudged her again and whined. She tried to stand, but her legs refused and she collapsed into a heap. She gave up. Instead, she crawled over to Cassandra’s body. 

The soldier’s eyes were open, staring fiercely skyward, and the color still in her cheeks. Even in death, Cassandra was beautiful. Everly tried to reach out to brush her eyes closed, but her fingers shook too much and her hands were covered in too much blood and she just couldn’t bring herself to touch Cassandra’s face. She focused her attention on Cassandra’s shirt, smoothing it out as best she could and carefully repositioning her vest over the wound in her stomach. When all that was done, she curled up and placed her head on Cassandra’s shoulder. Ace sidled in to rest his chin on Cassandra’s chest. Quietly, Everly began to sob. 

She didn’t know how long she laid there, Cassandra’s body growing colder beneath her. Minutes, hours, days--it all blurred together. Time, which once seemed so critical, now ceased to matter. She was faced with a future she wanted no part of, and a past she could never leave behind. 

A firm hand slid under her bicep and tugged. Morrigan’s voice was in her ear, surprisingly kind. “On your feet, soldier,” she said in a ragged whisper. “On your feet.” 

Everly stood. Dried blood caked her cheek and chin. A new, throbbing pain pulsated in her thigh where the Nine had fallen on her. Morrigan looked like hell, too, and was still holding her arm at an awkward angle. By some miracle, Darrian was awake and pulling himself up, one hand gingerly holding his jaw. Ace gleefully trotted over and licked his palm. 

“Listen to me.” Morrigan kept a firm grip on Everly’s bicep. “What you need to do now is survive. It’s what she wanted. So we need to move, okay?”

Everly looked over at the smoldering remains of the machine, then down at Cassandra. She felt like she should say something--give some kind of testimony to whoever would listen about the extraordinary woman who had saved her life. Or, in the very least, a thank you. But she couldn’t find the words to do Cassandra justice. Even with decades to think about it, she doubted she ever would. Everly let out a long, heavy sigh. She realized she was no longer crying. 

“Okay,” she said. 

***

_She was standing at the water’s edge. Warm sun beat down on the back of her neck. Glittering water stretched out in front of her, all the way to the horizon. A cool breeze lifted from the waves and blew gently across her face._

_She looked to the sky. Nothing but blue. Cloudless. No HKs. To her left, a smattering of people were enjoying themselves on the beach, laying out in the sun or splashing along the edge of the surf. No skeletons. No hunks of wrenched, burnt-out debris. Like the war had never happened._

_Someone reached out and took her hand. It was Everly._

_She looked just as she had when she was younger--tight ripped jeans, white shirt underneath a bright yellow button down. Face unmarked. Her short, wild hair blew in the breeze as she raised her other hand to shield her eyes from the sun. Then she turned and smiled, nodding at the group of beachgoers._

_A young man was squatting next to a toddler with dark curls, digging in the sand. They were both achingly familiar. As if sensing her presence, he looked up and waved. The child immediately mimicked the gesture, letting out a delighted squeal that carried across the beach._

_Everly gave her a nudge. “Go.”_

_On instinct, her fingers tightened around Everly’s. “Come with me.”_

_“I’d love to. But I have some things to do first.” Everly gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and let it drop. She could hear the smile in Everly’s voice, even as it seemed to slowly fade away. “I’ll catch up later.”_

_She took a tentative step, bare feet sinking into the sand, then stopped and looked back. Everly was gone. Sadness filled her, but only for a moment. She had done everything she could. She had no regrets. They would find each other again, she was sure of it. They always would. In any place. In any time._

_She walked down the beach and left the war behind._

**Huntington Beach, CA**

**June 2019**

Everly didn’t know the first fucking thing about soccer. Sure, there was a ball and a net, and she was pretty sure the ball was supposed to go into said net, but that was the extent of it. Brayden had always been the athlete, not her, but she doubted even he could explain the chaotic drills being run around the field. Not that it really mattered. She sat in the bleachers at the end of the field behind the net, wearing oversized aviators that concealed most of the ugly red wound on the left side of her face. Ace stood guard next to her, a quiet, faithful presence. Hiding behind her sunglasses, she watched the goalie. 

Even if she wasn’t dressed in a different colored jersey, Cassandra still would have stood out among her teammates. A tall, glowering presence with reflexes impossibly fast for a woman of her size, Cassandra was truly a sight to behold. Everly stared unabashedly as she stalked the front of the net. Warmth blossomed in her chest when Everly realized that the strong, easy grace with which Cassandra moved had always been there, and was not a result of her augmentation. Everly ducked her head and glanced away, carefully wiping away the tears under her eyes. 

Of course, Morrigan knew a doctor--a sketchy, middle-aged man who had lost his medical license but for the right amount of cash was more than happy to stitch up wounds with no questions asked. Everly’s nose had wrinkled at the smell of bourbon on his breath, yet somehow he managed to save her left eye, although her vision would never be the same. Morrigan’s shoulder would heal on its own, but Darrian had torn several ligaments in his knee, which would have required surgery to repair. The doctor offered, the slight slur in his voice notwithstanding, but Darrian firmly refused. They bought a knee brace at the nearest drug store instead. When he could put weight on his leg again, they finalized the plan to head south. But not before they made one last stop. 

A blur of color flashed in front of her and Everly jerked back, reaching for her hip. A blue and white soccer ball bounced harmlessly along the bleachers. Ace immediately tore after it. Heart hammering, Everly looked down, realizing she had automatically gone for the concealed Glock she now carried regularly. She had left the pistol in the Jeep with Morrigan and Darrian. Clearly it had been the right decision. She was also glad that only Ace had witnessed her reaction; the ball had been damn near on top of her before she saw it. Even though her peripheral vision was lacking, Morrigan still would have chewed her ass for not paying attention. 

“A little help?”

Everly’s chest tightened at the familiar voice. Cassandra stood with her hands on her hips, slightly winded and wearing a scowl. She was younger, obviously--her face a little fuller, eyes still dark but not quite as hard. No scars. Everly was struck by the urge to say something, to acknowledge their connection somehow, but anything that came out of her mouth would be wholly unbelievable. Most days, she still couldn’t believe it herself. But Everly knew what they shared was real, and all she could do was hope that when they met again, she would find the words to tell Cassandra every day how much she meant to her. 

Cassandra huffed impatiently and gestured with her gloved hand. Ace had laid down and was proudly displaying the ball between his front legs, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Everly plucked the ball from him and tossed it back. Cassandra caught it with one hand, spun around, and launched a booming kick towards her teammates at the center of the field. She muttered a quick thanks and started jogging away, but stopped mid stride and turned back. 

“Nice dog,” she said, then ran off.

Everly watched Cassandra go, wishing she would turn around one last time. She never did. Ace let out a soft, plaintive whine. With a rueful smile, she patted the dog’s head and led him away from the field. 

Morrigan was leaning against the beaten-down Jeep parked across the street, arms crossed, wearing an identical pair of aviators. Darrian was stretched out in the backseat, head leaning against the window. Everly tensed, expecting a complaint about having taken too long, but both remained quiet. Morrigan tossed her the keys and opened up the back for Ace to jump in. Everly climbed into the driver’s seat and started the car. She sat quietly for a moment, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. 

“You okay?” Morrigan asked. 

Everly glanced over at the soccer field. “I won’t let her die for me.”

Something almost like approval passed over Morrigan’s face. “Then you need to be ready.” 

Everly nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. From the back, Darrian spoke up. 

“You know,” he said gently, “you may not have a choice, kid.” 

“What, like it’s fate?” Everly pulled down her sunglasses and looked at Darrian in the rearview mirror. A slight grin quirked at the corner of her mouth. “Fuck fate.” 

She threw the Jeep into gear and they drove off. 


End file.
